THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


SOUTHERN  ECHOES. 


BY 

LOUISE   PIKE. 


BOSTON  : 

EASTERN  PUBLISHING  COMPANY, 

6 I   COURT  STREET. 

1900 


Copyright,  1900, 

by 
LOUISE  PIKE. 


FOREIGN  LANGUAGE   PRESS,  202  Harrison  Avtnut, 
BOSTON,  MASS. 


?5 


P5 

Contents. 


PREFACE    

DEDICATION 

A  PRANK  OF  HYMEN g 

CLARISSA'S  MAW 20 

THE  REVOLT  OF  AMOS 36 

TOBIT'S  CALL 44 

A  GAME  OF  CRAPS 55 

TEMPE'S  VENTURE 68 

HE  KNEW  THE  MISTRESS 77 

A  No  'COUNT  NIGGER 86 

BIG  BEN 92 

Two  GOURDS  OF  FAT 101 

EPHIRAM'S  BOLD  STROKE 108 

A  HOODOED  SEVEN 123 


in 


1  1  254-74 
JL  JL VV  v-"  ->-  tf    -«- 


preface* 


FEW,  very  few  now  are  the  genuine  old 
time  plantation  darkies.  The  old  colored  re 
tainer  is  almost  a  thing  of  the  past  and  his 
passing  might  serve  for  the  theme  of  an  in 
teresting  bit  of  sectional  history.  Silently 
and  slowly  the  great  throng  of  them  have 
gone,  leaving  nothing  but  a  memory  in  the 
place  once  theirs. 

Yet  no  obituaries  are  written,  telling  how 
they  have  lain  down  the  shovel  and  the  hoe, 
in  very  truth  ;  just  a  few  of  them  are  left  and 
their  fidelity  deserves  endless  praise. 

The  dialect  too,  of  these  dark-skinned  com 
edies  and  tragedies  of  the  old  times  is  pas 
sing,  and  the  less  pleasing,  less  picturesque 
speech  of  the  school-bred  darky  is  taking  its 
place.  Soon,  with  the  last  vanishing  remnant 
v 


PREFACE. 

of  the  "  old  heads,"  will  have  passed  a  curious 
mode  of  speech,  the  imitation  of  the  English 
tongue  by  the  immediate  descendants  of  the 
African  negro. 

The  melodies  also  are  now  very  seldom 
heard.  The  songs  of  the  rice  and  cotton 
fields,  the  themes  of  which  are  trivial  and 
primitive,  full  of  monotonous  repetition,  but 
full  also  of  vocal  harmonies,  rich,  strange,  of 
barbaric  originality,  they  are  not  easy  to 
write  or  interpret,  yet  they  are  musical, 
haunting,  and  inimitable. 

Yet  in  time  will  we  say"  good-bye  "  to  them 
as  we  are  saying  it  to  the  singers,  carelessly 
and  unheedingly,  when  their  preservation 
would  have  enriched  the  literature  of  song. 

THE  AUTHOR. 


VI 


Co  Clarissa 

Cbese  Calcs  are  dedicated 

as  a  grateful  remembrance 

by  the 

Hutbor. 


VII 


H  prank  of  F)ymen, 
wvvv 

rINA    was  up    earlier    than  usual. 
It  had  been  very  hot  all  night  in 
her  small  cellar  room  in  the  alley, 
and   though  she  had  retired  late 
the   continued  stifling  heat  kept 
her    awake    most  of   the    night. 
Consequently  she  had  got  up  long 
before  sunrise,  put  her  room  to  rights,  and, 
as  it  was  Wednesday  morning,  dressed  her 
self  neatly  in  freshly  laundered  clothes. 

Tina  was  cooking  in  a  banker's  family  just 
then,  and  one  of  the  requisites  of  the  situa- 
ation  was  that  the  cook  should  always  be 
cleanly  dressed.  So  when  Tina  emerged  from 
the  alley  into  the  cross-street  she  looked  very 
smart  indeed.  Her  gingham  dress  was  gay 
in  color,  and  very  stiffly  starched,  her  apron 

9 


IO  A    PRANK    OF    HYMEN. 

was  spotless,  and  she  carried  on  her  arm  a 
basket  of  generous  size  in  which  to  stow  away 
the  broken  food  sent  back  from  the  dining- 
room. 

For  many  mornings  Tina  passed  on  her 
way  to  her  service  place,  returning  at  night 
almost  the  same  way.  Then  one  morning 
the  kitchen  was  vacant,  and  for  several  days 
the  banker's  family  was  cookless,  being  un 
willing  to  supply  itself  from  the  great  float 
ing  supply  of  servants  that  besieges  the  resi 
dence  portion  of  the  city  every  Monday  morn 
ing.  After  a  time  Tina  returned,  and  taking 
up  her  work  where  she  had  left  off,  kept  on 
as  though  no  interruption  had  taken  place. 

"  Bin  down  in  de  kentry  ter  see  pa's  wife," 
she  explained,  a  few  days  later.  "  She  was 
pow'ful  sick,  and  liked  ter  die.  She  did 
dat." 

Time  passed  and  the  monotony  of  service 
became  again  very  tiresome,  and  Tina  was 
once  more  thinking  of  visiting  her  father's 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  II 

wife,  when  on  her  way  to  work  some  one  ac 
costed  her  from  behind : 

"  Lady :  say,  dar,  lady !  " 

Tina  turned  to  confront  a  small  black  man, 
seemingly  on  his  way  to  work  also,  for  he 
wore  a  number  of  very  soiled  nondescript 
garments,  and  tied  over  the  front  of  all,  an 
apron  fashioned  from  a  tattered  portion  of  an 
old  gunnysack. 

"Who  dat  hailin'  me?"  Tina  asked,  turn 
ing. 

"  Hit's  me,  lady,"  the  man  answered} 
shuffling  his  ragged  feet  awkwardly  before 
her.  "  I  done  seed  you  go  by  so  much  I 
'lowed  I  lak  de  way  you  look,  and  was  gwine 
ax  yer  if  you  wouldn't  keep  comp'ny  ?  " 

"  Who  is  you,  anyhow,  nigger  ?  " 

"  I'se  drayman  for  some  white  men  down 
on  de  canal.  I  gits  fo'  dollars  a  week." 

"  Um,  hun  !  "  meditatively.  "  I  reckon  you 
can  come  'long  '  bout  sundown.  I  cooks  all 
day  on  de  hill  foh  de  quality." 


12  A    PRANK    OF    HYMEN. 

Tina  turned  away  and  the  man  returned 
to  his  deserted  dray  and  mule,  standing  near 
by.  As  he  mounted  and  rattled  off  down  the 
uneven  pavement,  his  thoughts  were  satis 
factory  indeed. 

"  Mighty  purty  'oman  dat  is.  I  'lowed  she 
gwine  git  mad  when  I  hail  her,  but  she  didn't. 
Nice  as  pie.  Cook,  too.  He,  he  !  " 

Tina  thought  many  times  that  day  of  her 
new  admirer,  and  many  toothsome  dainties 
found  their  way  into  her  service  pan  in  anti 
cipation  of  his  expected  visit  that  night. 

"I'm  gittin'  tired  of  service,  anyhow,"  she 
told  herself,  "  an'  he  'lowed  he  gits  fo'  dol 
lars  a  week.  Ef  he  don't  drink  to  much  licker 
an'  ef  he  ain't  got  no  more  'oman  I'll  quit 
cookin',  sho." 

It  was  with  quite  different  inspirations  that 
the  drayman  decked  himself  in  his  best  to 
pay  his  first  visit  to  his  inamorata.  Trousers 
that  once  had  been  white,  but  from  repeated 
washings  had  turned  a  feeble  gray  and  shrunk 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  13 

considerably,  adorned  his  nether  limbs.  A 
white  shirt  and  vivid  pink  collar  shone  resplen 
dent  through  the  opening  of  his  coat,  an 
article  that  had  once  graced  the  portly  person 
of  a  union  soldier,  but  which  with  careful 
hoarding  did  duty  for  much  holiday  wear. 
His  hat  was  of  the  beaver  shape,  newer  than 
any  other  article  of  his  toilet,  for  it  was  one 
of  the  light  campaign  hats,  given  to  him  by 
a  young  politician  the  morning  after  the  last 
presidential  unpleasantness.  Very  well  pleased 
with  the  appearance  of  his  outer  man,  Isaac 
presented  himself  at  the  door  of  Tina's  room 
in  due  time,  but  was  not  very  well  pleased  or 
entirely  prepared  for  the  reception  accorded 
him.  Tina  wore  her  usual  workaday  frock, 
but,  what  was  worse,  a  large  ebon  son  of 
Ham,  much  more  resplendent  than  Isaac  ever 
dreamed  of  looking,  occupied  the  big  hide- 
buttoned  chair  in  the  centre  of  the  room. 

Isaac  paused  irresolutely  on  the  step,  beav 
er  in  hand. 


14  A    PRANK    OF    HYMEN. 

"  I  hope  I  ain't  done  spiled  compn'y,"  he 
observed,  stiffly. 

"Come  in,  Brother  Isaac,  come  in,"  cried 
Tina,  hospitably.  "  This-sher  gen'man  was 
just  a-passin'  an'  drapped  in  a  spell.  Come 
right  in  an'  set  down,"  and  she  pulled  a  chair 
before  the  door  for  the  entering  guest. 

Isaac  soon  had  the  field  to  himself,  for  the 
other  swain  departed.  Then  Tina  proceeded 
to  exert  herself  for  the  captivation  and  enter 
tainment  of  her  admirer.  A  table  was  brought 
forth  and  spread  with  the  contents  of  her 
basket  and  a  cup  of  fragrant  coffee  was  soon 
brewed  on  the  few  coals  smoldering  on  the 
hearth. 

When  Isaac  had  eaten  and  drank  his  fill, 
his  heart  expanded,  and  his  sudden  admira 
tion  for  his  hostess  took  definite  and  serious 
form.  Drawing  his  chair  nearer  to  her  own, 
he  proceeded  to  unburden  himself. 

"  Dear,  kin'  lady,  has  you  any  objections 
to  my  drawin'  my  cheer  ter  your  side  and  re- 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  15 

volvin'  de  wheel  of  my  conversation  'round 
de~axle  of  your  understandin'  ?  " 

"  I  has  no  objections  to  a  gen'l'man  ad- 
dressin'  me  in  a  proper  manner,  sah,"  Tina 
observed,  grandly. 

"  Dear,  kin'  lady,  de  worl'  is  a  howlin' 
wilderness  of  devourin'  animals,  and  you  is 
got  ter  walk  through  hit.  Has  yuh  made  up 
your  min'  ter  walk  through  hit  by  yourself  or 
wid  some  bold  waryah  ?  " 

"  Kin'  sah,"  she  answered,  loftily,  "ef  you 
thinks  you  is  a  good  waryah,  I  will  let  you 
pass  under  my  observation  from  dis  day  on, 
an'  ef  you  proves  worthy  of  a  confidin'  lady's 
trus'  some  lady  might  be  glad  to  accept  your 
purtection,  an'  that  lady  might  be  me." 

This  point  settled  after  the  formal  manner, 
the  two  considered  themselves  engaged,  and 
as  both  were  eager  and  anxious  for  a  definite 
settlement  no  time  was  lost  in  arranging  the 
day. 

"  I  gits  fo'  dollars  a  week,  an'  I  kin  keep  a 


l6  A    PRANK    OF    HYMEN. 

wife  elegant,  an'  don't  you  be  afeered,"  Isaac 
observed,  when  talking  over  the  arrange 
ments,  while  Tina  dilated  on  her  ability  as  a 
cook  and  house  woman. 

"  I  kin  cook  anything,"  she  asserted,  "  an' 
no  white  folks  ain't  found  fault  wid  my  cook- 
in'  yet." 

As  both  seemed  to  be  mutually  satisfied 
there  was  nothing  left  but  to  go  ahead,  and 
consummate  the  satisfactory  bargain.  Cakes 
were  cooked  in  the  kitchen  that  never  came 
to  the  light  of  day  on  the  banker's  table  and 
many  lucious  hams  and  juicy  sirloins  were 
spirited  from  the  pantry  without  the  know 
ledge  of  the  mistress. 

The  feast  was  spread  in  the  room  of  one 
of  Tina's  friends,  the  cellar-room  in  the  alley 
being  inadequate  to  hold  the  invited  guests. 
And  Tina,  in  her  best,  surrounded  by  her 
friends,  awaited  the  coming  of  the  groom. 
The  ceremony  was  to  be  performed  by  a 
neighboring  magistrate  and  Tina  had  the 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  17 

license  already  in  her  pocket,  Isaac  having 
pleaded  a  lack  of  ready  change  and  an  un 
willingness  to  draw  on  his  employer  for  the 
amount.  Accordingly  Tina  had  waived  the 
point  and  herself  purchased  the  necessary 
document. 

Moments  passed  and  still  the  groom  came 
not,  and  the  assembled  guests  began  to  show 
signs  of  impatience  and  later  of  anger.  Soon 
there  was  an  audible  whisper  among  the 
crowd  expressive  of  doubt  as  to  his  coming 
at  all.  Dissatisfaction  had  reached  its  height 
and  there  was  a  bold  suggestion  that  the  feast 
should  be  enjoyed  whether  the  wedding  cere 
mony  was  performed  or  not.  While  the  mistress 
of  ceremonies  vainly  tried  to  maintain  order, 
and  the  prospective  bride  loudly  bewailed 
the  perfidy  of  man,  the  groom  entered  and 
stood  before  her.  It  was  the  groom,  indeed, 
but  not  as  she  expected  to  behold  him.  In 
stead  of  being  clad  in  wedding  finery,  as  be 
came  the  occasion,  he  still  wore  the  soiled. 


1 8  A    PRANK    OF    HYMEN. 

frayed  nondescript  garments  of  his  workaday 
world,  and  tied  over  all  was  the  tattered, 
dirty,  gunnysack  apron.  He  carried  in  his 
hand  his  leather  driving  thong,  and  his  face 
was  sullenly  solemn  as  he  faced  the  angry 
bride-elect. 

"  I  know  you  all  is  here  to  see  me  marry 
dissher  'oman,"  he  said,  addressing  the  crowd, 
"  and  twel  dis  mornin'  I  aimed  toe  do  dat. 
But  when  I  got  up  dis  mornin'  a  good 
friend  of  mine  come  an'  'lowed  toe  me  dat  she 
was  a  dissipated  'oman,  an'  warn't  no  manner 
account.  I  ain't  gwine  to  marry  no  dissipa 
ted  'oman,  'case  if  I  done  had  her  I'd  quit 
her  short  off ;  before  de  Lawd,  I  would !  " 

There  was  a  howl  of  protest  on  the  part 
of  the  women,  and  ejaculatory  comments  of 
approval  by  the  men.  Friends  of  the  bride 
gathered  round,  endeavoring  to  persuade  the 
man  to  alter  his  decision,  considering  the 
feast  was  spread  and  the  license  bought.  But 
he  was  obdurate,  reiterating  stubbornly  his 


SOUTHERN  ECHOES.  19 

determination  never  to  marry  a  dissipated 
woman. 

And,  despite  tears,  threats  and  entreaties, 
laaac  made  his  escape,  and,  mounting  his 
dray,  clattered  down  the  street,  a  wiser  if  not 
a  "sadder  man,  happy  in  the  conscionsness 
that  he  had  escaped  being  tied,  even  for  a 
short  while,  to  "a  dissipated  'oman." 

"  Cause,"  he  soliloquised,  as  he  went  about 
his  work,  "  if  she  want  whiskey,  an'  I  lak 
whiskey  so  good,  who  gwine  buy  bacon  'an 
bread,  huh  ?  Um-huh  !  I  ain't  gwine  marry 
no  dissipated  'oman,  not  if  I  knows  dis  nig 
ger." 


Clarissa's 


^55>jf iLARISSA  was  ironing.  It  was  a 
blistering  hot  day,  the  thermo 
meter  coquetting  somewhere  above 
the  hundred  point  in  the  deepest 
shade,  but  she  stood  with  her  back 
to  the  roasting  fire,  smoothing 
tucks  and  ruffies  and  voluminous 
folds  of  sheer  muslin  that  we  girls  would 
wear  a  time  or  two  and  then  cast  aside  foi 
this  patient  black  women  to  toil  over  in  the 
same  way  next  week.  I  spoke  to  her  about 
it  one  day,  but  Clarissa  did  not  see  it  that 
way.  "  Law,  chile,"  she  said,  grinning 
broadly,  "yuh  maw  done  pay  meh  fur 
sweatin'  over  yuh  clo'es,  an'  ef  yuh  all 
didn't  w'ar  'em  I  couldn't  git  de  money." 
20 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  21 

This  was  Clarissa's  view  of  the  case  which, 
I  confess,  had  never  occurred  to  me.  But 
she  was  a  cheerful  soul  and  a  willing  worker, 
though  she  was  thin  almost  to  emaciation, 
her  upright,  tall  figure  looking  not  unlike  an 
exclamation  point  and  her  very  black,  small 
face,  with  its  thin  yet  protruding  lips,  and 
her  restless,  black  eyes,  looking  not  unlike  a 
species  of  monkey.  Clarissa  was  fond  of 
vivid  colors  and  her  Sunday  gown  was 
always  very  gay,  either  a  crude  blue  a  violent 
pink  or  not  infrequently  a  staring  yellow, 
never  judiciously  mixed  with  any  softening 
color  or  combination.  Likewise  was  she 
opposed  to  the  way  the  young  negresses 
strove  to  dress  their  locks  wearing  her  own 
kinky  hair  in  the  good  old  way  as  an 
example  to  the  rising  generation  —  that  is, 
"wropped,"  as  it  is  familiarly  called.  A 
small  section  of  hair  is  taken  in  the  fingers 
and  bound  its  length  with  a  smutted  cord  : 
another  pinch  of  wool  is  taken  and  treated 


22  CLARISSAS    MAW. 

in  the  same  way,  until  the  whole  head  is 
covered  at  intervals  with  a  sort  of  trellis 
work  of  tightly  wrapped  hair,  and  when  a 
negress  has  not  smutted  the  cord,  being  in 
different  to  her  personal  appearance,  the 
effect  is  very  curious  indeed. 

Clarissa  always  wore  hers  "  wropped,"  and 
as  her  scalp  seemed  of  a  lighter  shade  of 
black  than  her  hair  or  face,  the  partings 
between  the  small  sections  gave  her  head 
a  sort  of  checker-board  appearance,  add 
ing  much  to  the  unique  ugliness  of  her 
looks.  But  in  spite  of  her  ugliness  we  all 
loved  Clarissa.  She  was  a  faithful  servant 
in  every  way.  While  we  were  children  she 
was  a  careful,  affectionate  nurse,  and  when 
we  had  outgrown  her  care  she  stil!  remained 
with  us  making  herself  extremely  useful  and 
necessary  about  the  house. 

She  was  full  of  interesting  reminiscence 
about  her  white  folks,  "  befo'  de  wah,"  and 
would  talk  to  us  girls,  telling  stories  in  that 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  23 

affectionately  familiar  way  of  the  old  negro 
servants  who  "  knowed  yo'  maw  befo'  you 
was  horned." 

"  Miss  Tilda  did  yuh  ever  hear  

preach  ? "  naming  a  popular  revivalist. 

"  No  Clarissa,"  I  said  "  I  never  did." 

Carissa  laughed.  "Maw  she  went  toe  hear 
4m  t'other  day,  an  when  she  kem  home  she 
found  Mr.  Wash'n't'n  drunk,  an  she  jess 
took  a  stick  an'  whop  'im  good." 

"  Why,  Clarissa,"  I  said,  in  surprise, 
"  your  mother  does  not  whip  your  husband, 
does  she  ?  " 

Clarissa  laughed,  twisting  herself  into 
many  grotesque  postures,  as  though  the 
thought  of  her  husband's  being  whipped  was 
too  excruciatingly  funny. 

"  He,  he,  he,  ee  !  Lawd,  yas,  dat  she  do, 
honey.  She  do  whop  'im.  Hit  was  her  dat 
break  'im  f'om  gwyne  over  in  de  alley  ter  dat 
no-count  Sally  Ann's  house." 

Clarissa  grew  serious  when  the  thought  of 


24  CLARISSA'S  MAW. 

her  trouble  occurred  to  her,  and  she  con 
tinued,  all  trace  of  amusement  vanishing  from 
her  black  face  : 

"  Yuh  see,  Miss  'Tilda,  hit  was  disser  way : 
I  knowed  Mr.  Wash'n't'n  was  a  gwyne  ter 
see  Sally  Ann,  an'I  'low  ter  maw,  I  did : 
"'Spec  he's  gwyne  quit  'n'  go  dar  all  de 
time.  Spec's  he  an't  satisfied,  nohow.' 

"  Maw  she  didn't  say  nuthin',  but  jess 
waited,  an'  when  Mr.  Wash'n't'n  done  eat  he's 
supper  an'  go  out,  maw  she  go  out,  too,  an' 
foller  right  behind. 

"  Mr.  Wash'n't'n  tracked  straight  fer  de 
ally  as  fas'  as  he  could  go,  an'  maw  she  was 
right  a'ter  'im. 

"  Sally  Ann  had  a  big  fire  a-blazin'  in  de 
chimbly,  an'  Wash'n't'n  was  a-settin'  dar  lak 
a  coon  in  a 'simmon  tree,  a-roastin'an'  a-eatin 
taters,  an'  Sally  Ann  she  was  a-roastin'  an' 
a-eatin',  too. 

"  Maw  she  peep  fru  de  keehole  an'  see  dat 
nigger  a-settin  dar.  She  bust  in  de  do',  an' 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  25 

pounce  on  dat  Sally  Ann,  same's  a  speckled 
hen  on  a  June  bug,  an'  would  yuh  b'lieve 
hit'  Miss  Tilda,  she  done  wipe  up  de  flo'  wid 
dat  yeller  gall.  But  law,  hit  a'n't  done  me 
no  good,  nohow,  if  she  did  do  dat  ar." 

Clarissa  was  serious  for  a  few  moments, 
her  mind  dwelling,  no  doubt,  on  her  domes 
tic  infelicity ;  then  her  face  brightened  and 
she  began  to  laugh  again. 

"  When  de  chillun  see  her  whop  der 
paw,"  she  continued,  "  dey  pile  on  her,  an' 
den  she  turn  roun'  an'  whop  de  hull  lot. 
Den  leetle  Boot  —  she's  de  baby  —  went 
behin'  maw  an'  begin  ter  poun'  her  leetle 
fisses  —  she's  jess  lak  maw  —  an'  she  'low: 
'  Yer  ol'  black  nigger,  gran'mar  ! '  Den  maw 
flew  roun'  an'  kotch,  her  an'  she  'low' :  « I'll 
teach  yer  ter  call  yer  maw's  maw  black 
nigger  ! '  An'  she  whop  her  too. 

"  I  come  in  den,  an  I  'low,  I  did  :  '  What's 
de  matter,  maw  ?  Whar's  yer  bin  ?'  She 
'low  :  '  I'se  bin  ter  year preach.'  An'  I 


26  CLARISSA'S  MAW. 

low  :  '  I  doan  think  hit  done  yer  much  good.' 

"  Den  maw  look  lak  she  gwyne  whop  me, 
too,  an'  I  make  haste  ter  'low  :  What  dey 
sing  an'  what  he  preach  'bout  ? '  an'  maw 
she  'low :  '  He  preach  'bout  de  fiery  pit  an* 
dey  sing  somefin  'bout  "  Yuh  mus'  fight  if 
yuh  wud  reign."  ' 

"  Wash'n't'n  dat  stracted  w'en  he  drunk 
dat  he  an't  got  no  sorter  sence  'tall,  an'  he 
'low  ter  me,  he  did : 

"  '  So  de  ol'  lady  '  low  she'd  come  home 
an'  fite  de  hull  fambly  '  —  he-he-he  ! 

"  Den  I  went  out  an'  lef  dat  nigger  wid 
maw,  an'  I  know  she  give  '  im  wussen  'Hail 
Columby,'  kase  it  was  two  days  befo'  he  kem 
home  a'ter  dat,  an'  w'en  he  did  come  in  he 
a'nt  had  nuthin'  ter  say  ter  maw  'tall  'cept 
'  Yassum'  an'  '  No'm,'  as  perlite  as  kin  be. 

"  Maw's  de  onyest  one  dat  can  do  nuthin' 
'  tall  wid  Mister  Wash'n't'n,  kase  when  he 
gits  ter  goin'  on  his  big  doin's  maw  she  'lows 
she's  gwyne  driv'  'im  'way  from  me  an'  de 


SOUTHERN  ECHOES.  27 

chillun  ef  he  don't  mind.  He's  got  a  hoanin, 
a'ter  de  baby,  sho'  miff,  but,  Lawd  !  hit's 
his  vittles  he  thinks  'bout  most,  kase  he  ant 
gwyne  work.  He's  mighty  skeerd  o'  maw,' 
she's  got  such  a  orful  temper.  W'y,  even 
Mars  Torm  didn't  dast  ter  go  agin  her  in 
slavery  time. 

"  To  be  sho'  she  didn't  whop  him  a'ter  he 
was  growed  up,  but  I  dunno  but  what  she 
would  ef  she'd  a  wanted  ter.  She  did  cl'ar 
out  a  whole  house  full  er  white  felks  onct,  an' 
dey  was  just  skeered  ter  death  o'  her. 

"  You  see,  w'en  I  was  a  leetle  gal  'bout 
10  year  ol'  Mars  hired  me  out  fer  meh  vittles 
an'  clo'es  ter  some  white  folks  dat  didn't 
treat  meh  right.  One  day  dey  sent  meh  ter 
tote  water  frum  de  spring,'  bout  a  mile  ;  I 
was  b'ar  footed,  an'  didn't  had  no  bonnet  an' 
was  a  cryin'  kase  de  missis  had  done  beat 
me,  an  I  met  maw  a  comin'  ter  see  meh. 
When  I  done  tole  her  w'at  dey  done,  she 
got  dat  mad  dat  she  tuck  a  fence  rail  an' 


28  CLARISSA'S  MAW. 

druv  'em  all  outen  de  house,  an'  nun  ev  'em 
dassent  come  in  tuel  she'd  done  gone.  Maw 
she  got  such  a  orful  temper,  she  is. 

"  A'ter  my  time  wus  out  wid  dem  folks, 
Mars  Torm  kep  meh  home  ter  wait  on  Miss 
Lucy.  She's  Mars  Torm's  wife,  an'  maw 
b'longed  ter  her  ennyways,  but  her  temper 
was  so  orful  dey  never  kep  'er'ome  noways. 
She  was  mos'  allus  hired  out- 

"  What  yer  think  she  says  onct  whar'  she 
was  hired  ter  cook  ?  She  went  in  de  kitchen 
an'  seed  one  er  dese  ol'  box-stoves,  and  she 
'low: 

"  « Yuh  spect  meh  ter  cook  decent  vittles 
on  one  o'  dem  ?  Whar's  yer  bilin'  water 
kettle  an'  yer  fry  pan  ?  I  a'n't  gwyne  ter  do 
no  cookin'  dat's  wuth  whiles  on  dat  ar. 
Taint  fatten  fer  po'  white  trash,  let  alone 
'spectable  culled  pussons,'  and  maw  she  jess 
kept  on  tuel  dey  was  jess  'bleeged  ter  git  a 
new  stove,  kase  maw's  a  elegant  cook  an' 
dey  all  wanted  'er  tuel  dey  jess  nachelly  got 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  29 

tired  ev  her  temper.  One  day  w'en  de  mistis 
axed  'er  ef  she  cud  sprinkle  clo'es,  maw  she 
druv  de  mistiss  outen  de  kitchen  an  sez'  'Go 
long,  chile,  I  done  sprinkle  cloes  befo'  yuh 
was  bawn.'  Ef  yuh  lets  maw  'lone  she's  all 
right,  but  she  won't  let  nobody  tell  her 
nothin',  she's  got  sich  a  temper. 

"  Whop  maw  ?  W'y,  she  fit  so,  dar  warn't 
no  man  dassent  touch  'er ;  she'd  far  dey 
eyes  out. 

"  Maw,  she  never  had  no  sich  temper 
'long  at  fust.  She  was  brung  up  'long  wid 
Miss  Lucy,  an'  w'en  she  was  mahred,  'long 
'fore  Miss  Lucy,  dey  give  'er  a  big  weddin',  an' 
she  got  kinder  sot  up  an'  spected  ter  hab  her 
own  way.  Well,  when  Miss  Lucy  mahred  Mars 
Torm  'yuh  know,  maw  b'longed  ter  her,  an' 
maw's  husband  b'longed  ter  Miss  Lucy's 
brudder,  an'  he  'ouldn't  sell  'im  nor  'ouldn't 
buy  maw,  tho  Miss  Lucy  said  she'd  sell  maw 
rather'n  part  'em,  tho  maw  didn't  lak  Miss 
Lucy's  brudder  an'  wouldn't  leave  Miss  Lucy, 


30  CLARISSA'S  MAW. 

an'  dey  couldn't  fix  it  nohow,  an'  maw  never 
seed  her  husban'  agin. 

"  Well,  dat  mek  'er  kind  o'  sulky,  kase  she 
pow'ful  fond  o'  him,  an'  w'en  her  chillun  was 
bawn  dey  was  twins  an'  she  jess  wouldn't 
leave  'em  ter  do  nothin'  fer  nobody  'cept 
Miss  Lucy.  She  named  de  leetle  gal  Lucy, 
but  she  couldn't  find  no  name  fer  de  boy. 
Dey  all  told  her  names  fer  'im,  but  nobody 
dassent  say  de  name  o'  her  husban',  kase 
she  hadn't  spoke  o'  'im  onct,  an'  she  wouldn't 
name  'im  after  Mars  Torm,  kase  she  hated 
'im  fer  makin'  'er  tak,e  anoder  husban.'  So 
hit  run  on'  an'  bles  yuh  soul,  de  chile  never 
was  named.  He  was  a  right  smart  boy  w'en 
he  was  sold.  Dey  was  bofe  ev  'em  sold. 
Yuh  see,  oP  mistiss,  Mars  Torm's  mother, 
was  a  hard  'oman,  an'  somehow  ruther  she 
took  a  unlike  ter  dem  chillun,  couldn't  never 
b'ar  'em,  an'  one  mawnin'  w'en  maw  were 
away  wid  Miss  Lucy  she  done  sont  fur  a 
trader  an'  made  Mars  Torm  sell  'em  bofe. 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  31 

"  Well,  yuh  just  orter  see  maw  w'en  she 
come  home  an'  couldn't  find  dem  chilun  ; 
she  rampaged  'roun'  same's  a  wild  beas',  an' 
from  dat  blessed  minnit  she  done  hate  ol' 
mistis  an'  Mars  Torm  worser'n  pizen'  an' 
dat's  when  her  temper  riz  so  orful. 

"  Maw  she  don't  talk  'bout  'em,but  I  know 
she  ain't  done  forgit,  kase  if  anything  crosses 
her  she  jess  ramps  'roun'  an'  pears  lak  she'd 
go  ter  kill  ennybody. 

"  Laws,  no,  honey,  I  an't  de  on'y  chillun 
maw's  got.  Dar's  me  an'  Limpy  an'  Dinah 
an'  Sarah  Ann  an'  Wash'n't'n.  He  was 
bawn  befo'  de  wah,  an'  when  maw  come 
away  from  de  ol'  place  she  brung  'im  wid'  er 
an'  sont  'im  ter  school  here.  But  long  'fore 
'mancipation,  jess  as  soon  as  Linkum's  sojers 
begin  comin'  down,  maw  quit  livin'  wid  de 
white  folks  an'  went  ter  her  own  cabin  an' 
begin  cookin'  piles  er  vittles  an'  sold  'em  ter 
de  sojers  an'  made  lots  er  money.  She'd  set 
de  chillun  ter  watch  de  big  road,  an'  when 


32  CLARISSA'S  MAW. 

dey'd  see  de  sojers  comin'  dey'd  run  an'  tell 
her  an'  she'd  begin  ter  cook.  W'y,  she's 
baked  more'n  a  hundred  pounds  er  flour  in  a 
week,  maw  have. 

"  Lawdy,  no,  honey,  Mars  Torm  ain't,  give 
her  no  flour.  She  done  tuk  hit.  W'y,  Mars 
Torm  war'n't  dar,  an'  after  de  servants 
runned  away  Mars  Torm  went  a  hidin'  in  de 
woods  an'  dey  wasn't  anybody  up  toe  de 
house.  Mars  Torm  lock  de  doe  hese'f  an" 
giv'  meh  de  key,  kase  he  'low  he  cud  trus' 
meh  wid  hit.  I  was  so  leetle  nobody  would 
'low  I  had  hit. 

"  Maw  she  never  know  I  have  hit,  kase 
she  hate  Mars  Torm  so  she'd  give  de  key  ter 
de  sojers,  but  dey  broke  in  ennyways,  dey  did. 

"  Der  come  erlong  one  day  some  kunnels 
an'  majors  an'  cap'ens  an'  knocked  at  de 
doe,  an'  dey  low :  'Whar's  yer  Mars  ? '  I 
sez:  'I  dunno'  sah,' an' dey  'low:  'Whar's 
de  key  toe  de  house  doe  ? '  I  'low,  '  I  dunno 
sah.'  Den  day  break  in  de  winder  an'  trapse 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  33 

all  over  de  house.  Dey  break  open  de  burer 
drawers  scanlous  an'  tuck  de  clo'es.  Den 
dey  come  ter  Miss  Lucy's  room  an'  dey  was 
a  box  er  letters  Mars  Torm  done  writ  ter  her 
when  dey  was  a-co'tin,  an'  dey  spill  'em  out 
on  de  flo'  an'  I  bus'  out  cryin',  kase  I  know 
Mars  Torm  t'ink  mo'  er  dem  letters  'n  enny- 
thing  he  got,  kase  Miss  Lucy  done  daid. 
One  er  dem  kunnels  he  'lowed  ter  meh : 
'Who's  Miss  Lucy ; '  an'  I  'low :  <  She's 
Mars  Term's  wife  an'  she  done  daid,'  an'  he 
'low  ter  de  yethers:  'Let  'em  'lone,  boys.' 

"  Bimeby  he  axed  meh  'gin  :  '  Wha's  Mars 
Torm  at  ? '  an'  I  'low  :  « I  dunno'  sah'  but  I 
did,  jest  de  same'  kase  I  used  ter  tote  'im 
vittles  when  I  could  steal  enny. 

"  Maw  kotched  meh  one  day  an'  she  'low : 
'  Wha'  ye  gwyne  wid  dem  vittles  ? '  an'  I 
say :  '  Bar's  an'  ol'  sow  down  in  de  woods 
wid  pegs  an'  I  gwyne  feed  'er.'  So  she  'low : 
1 1  go  'long  bimeby  an'  driv'  er  up.'  I  tells 
yer,  I  was  skeered  when  she  say  dat  an' 


34  CLARISSA'S  MAW. 

when  I  done  tole  Mars  Torm  he  'low :  '  She 
can't  fin  meh,  kase  I  got  a  place  ter  hide 
whar  she  doan'know.  'Doan  yuhbe  skeered .' 

"  But  I  was  skeered,  all  de  same,  an'  I 
took  a  light'ood  knot  an'  rooted  up  de  pine 
needles  same's  a  peeg  'ud  do,  an'  sho'  'nuff 
maw  went  ter  hunt  de  ol'  sow  an'  fin  'er,  but 
dar  warn't  no  sow  dar  'tall. 

"  Lawd,  yas  'honey,  she'd  a  tole  on  Mars 
Torm  ef  she'd  a-seed  'im,  kase  she  hated  'im 
wusser'n  pizen>  an'  she  got  sich  a  orful 
temper  ter  boot  an'  a'nt  never  got  over  'im 
a-sellin'  of  her  chillun  'lak  he  done." 

Clarissa  finished  the  last  garment,  carefuly 
hanging  it  up  to  air,  and  presently  I  heard 
her  in  the  kitchen  among  the  pots  and  pans 
putting  things  to  rights.  It  was  plain  that 
no  portion  of  her  maw's  "  orful  temper  "  had 
descended  to  Clarissa,  for  now  she  was  sing 
ing  a  plantation  melody  to  please  the  younger 
children,  just  as  an  hour  ago  she  had  recalled 
incidents  of  "  befo'  de  war,"  to  beguile  our 
curiosity : 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  35 

"  De  raccoon  climb  a  mighty  high  tree, 
An'  laff  w'en  he  hears'  de  nigger  call, 
But  he  shet  his  mouf  w'en  de  tree  cut  down, 
Hit's  pride  dat  goes  befo'  a  fall." 

Dear  humble,  patient,  affectionate,  cheer 
ful  Clarissa  !  She  might  have  her  trials,  her 
"up  an'  downs,"  with  Mr.  "Wash'n't'n"  and 
"  maw,"  but  she  was  safe  from  the  trials  that 
accompany  vanity  and  the  pride  that  goes 
before  a  fall. 


'Cbc  Revolt  of  Hrnos, 

¥¥¥* 

INC'  AMOS  and  Mammy  Caroline 
are  an  old-time  couple,  the  like  of 
whom  are  fast  disappearing,  leav 
ing  no  fellows  to  take  their  place. 
Married  after  the  orthodox  fash 
ion  long  before  "de  wah,"  they 
have  seen  three  generations  of  their 
"white  folks,"  and  Ca'line  has  "nussed  and 
cooked  "  for  each  of  them  faithfully  in  turn. 
Her  proportions  are  as  ample  as  those  of 
Amos  are  spare,  and  she  ruled  the  little  old 
man  rigidly  until  the  fatal  day  of  the  acci 
dent  to  the  pot,  when  her  sway  was  forever 
ended.  A  fellow  servant  tells  the  story  of 
Unc'  Amos'  emancipation,  though  Ca'line 
herself  is  religiously  silent  on  the  subject  and 
36 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  37 

nothing  will  anger  her  quicker  or  call  forth 
a  stronger  expression  of  her  opinion  of  a 
person  than  to  ask  her  the  story  of  how  she 
got"hitched  "  and  how  Unc'  Amos  "whopp 
ed  "  her. 

"  Go  'long,  chile,"  she  is  wont  to  answer. 
"  Amos  an't  never  done  whop  dis  chile,  I'se  a 
'ooman  myse'f,  an'  no  onnery  dried  up  nig 
ger  is  big  'nuff'  toe  whoop  Ca'line."  Then  she 
adds,  with  all  the  scorn  of  one  of  her  race  for 
another ;  "  Some  niggers  know  mo'  dan  dey 
pra'rs,  an'  is  allus  a  sayin'  hit.  Whop  who  ? 
Bress  de  Laur'  I  an't  nebber  seed  de  day." 

"  Ca'line  allus  wus  a  biggoty  nigger.  I 
knowed  'er  when  she  wus  a  gal  at  the  big 
house  nussin'  de  white  floks  chillun,  an'  after 
'mancipation  she  took  up  wid  Unc'  Amos  an' 
went  to  lib  in  dat  same  cabin  in  de  holler. 

"  Amos  wus  allus  a  po'  sickly,  leetle  nigger, 
not  very  peart  at  no  time,  an'  Ca'line  she 
had  ev'ything  jess  like  she  wanted  hit. 

"  She  jess  boss'  Brer  Amos  'roun'  same's 


38  THE    REVOLT   OF    AMOS. 

he'd  bin  a  chillun,  a  talkin'  all  de  time  'bout 
her  white  folks. 

"  Bimeby  Brer  Amos  he  done  git  tired  er 
Ca'line's  foolisness,  an'  say  he  'gwine  ter 
quit  an'  put  her  down,  an'  git  him  a  'ooman 
what  an't  got  so  much  biggotty  dat  he 
can't  whop  'er  when  he  sorter  jes'  nachelly 
feel  like  hit,  'stead  'o  bein'  whopped  hese'f 
when  Mammy  Ca'line  feel  like  whoppin 
o'  him.' 

"  Some  er  dem  no  'count  niggers  what's 
allus  a  totin'  er  tales  done  took  an'  tole  Mam 
Ca'line  Brer  Amos  say  he  gwine  to  quit,  but 
Mam  Ca'line  she  an't  say  nuthin'  yit. 

"Amos  he  wait  twel  he  see  what  Ca'line  she 
gwine  do  when  she  done  hear  'bout  his  fool 
ishness  'er  quittin',  but  Ca'line  she  not  let  on 
lak  she  know,  an'  sabe  dem  taters  an'  hom'ny 
an'  scraps  fer  ol'  Amos  jess  lak  she  allus  do. 
But  Amos  he  shore  nuff  means  ter  quit  an' 
take  up  wid  Sally  Ann  what  nusses  fer 
Amoses'  young  missus. 


SOUTHERN"    ECHOES.  39 

"  Dat  ar  done  show  Amos  was  a  fool 
nigger'  kase  no  nuss  gal  gwine  feed  'im  lak 
Ca'line  feed  'im  all  he's  life.  Sally  Ann,  she 
a  peart,  lively  gall,  an'  what  she  gwine  do 
wid  po',  finiky  leetle  nigger  lak  Amos  ?  But 
Mammy  Ca'line  she  done  whop  Sally  Ann 
'fore  all  de  folks  ter  prar  meetin',  an'  Sally 
Ann,  she  bound  ter  git  eben,  so  when  de 
white  folks  done  had  heap  er  comp'ny  come, 
an  Ca'line  she  deep  down  'mong  de  pots  a 
cookin'  an'  a  stwin*  fer  'em  ter  eat,  Sally 
Ann  she  sent  Amos  ter  dey  cabin  yonder, 
an'  dey  toted  off  all  er  Mam  Ca'line's  truck. 

"  Dey  toted  de  bade  (bed)  an'  de  kiver 
ter  hit,  and  de  cheers,  an'  Sally  Ann  she 
toted  Ca'line's  Sunday  frock  what  she  wears 
ter  prar  meetin',  and  dat  white  coat  what 
Ca'line  love  ter  swich  'bout  'mong  de  culled 
folks  what  an't  got  none. 

"  Arter  Mam  Ca'line  wus  done  a-brilin'  an' 
a-stewin'  fer  de  white  folks,  she  tie  up  her 
frock  an'  tuck  tro'  de  co'n  patch  ter  Sally 


40  THE    REVOLT    OF    AMOS. 

Ann's  house.  Dar  wus  a  big  fire  a-blazin'  in 
de  chimbly,  an'  ol'  Amos  he  wuz  a-settin'  dar 
lak  a  'coon  in'  a  simmon  tree,  a-roastin'  an' 
a-eatin'  taters,  an'  Sally  she  dar,  a-roastin' 
an'  eatin',  too. 

"  Mammy  Ca'line  she  wait  an'  listen,  an' 
peep  froo  a  crack  in  de  doo,  an  'bimeby 
Sally  Ann  she  low: 

" '  Roas'  taters  aint  sich  good  eaten  lak 
yo's  bin  used  ter,  Unc'  Amos.  White  folks 
vittles  eats  heap  better  'n  .what  niggers 
has.  Specs  yo'  done  be  gwine  back  ter  ol' 
Ca'line  'fo'  long.' 

"  '  Who  gwine  back  ?  Yo'  is  talkin'  foolish 
ness,  gal.  Specs  I  done  keer  for  good  eatin 
longside  a  peart,  purty  gal  like  yo'  is  ? 
Um  ,um,  honey  !  Ca'line  '11  done  have  to  git 
toofs  lak  yo's  got,  an'  all  dat  purty  ha'r  moss 
lak  white  jfolkses  fo'  ol'  Amos  he  go  back. 
Bress  de  lam,  chile,  Ca'line  ol'  scarecrow 
'longside  a  purty  gal  lak  you  is.' 

"  Sally  Ann,  she  look  at  Unc'  Amos  an' 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  41 

- 

laff.  Den  she  laff  some  mo'  and  pop  ol' 
Amos  on  de  jaw.  She  pop  'im  right  smart 
hard  twell  Amos  he  mos'  tink  Mam'  Ca'line 
done  got  him. 

"  Ca'line  a  peepin'  froo  de  keyhole  done 
hear  what  ol'  Amos  say,  an*  done  see  Sally 
Ann  slap  he  jaw.  Den  Ca'line  she  bust  in 
de  doo'  an'  low  ter  ol'  Amos  ; 

" '  Yo'  good-fur-nothin',  onnery  leetle 
nigger  who  is  yo'  callin'  scarecrow,  anyhow  ?' 
Den  she  pounce  on  Sally  Ann  same's  a  speck 
led  hen  on  a  June  bug,  an',  gen'emen,  she 
done  wipe  up  de  floo  wid  dat  yeller  gal. 

"  Ol'  Amos  he  sot  in  de  cornder  a  lookin' 
lak  a  rabbit  in  a  tater  bank,  an  when  Ca'line 
she  done  turn  Sally  Ann  loose  ol'  Amos  he 
low  : 

" '  We  wuz  a  funnin,'  Ca'line  !  '  Fore  Gawd 
we  wuz ! ' 

"  Mammy  Ca'line  she  jess  took  dat  leetle 
nigger  under  one  arm  an'  dat  bade  kiver  an' 
frock  under  tother,  an'  toted  em'  back  ter  dat 


42  THE    REVOLT    OF    AMOS. 

same  cabin  in  de  holler,  an'  sot  him  down, 
an'  oP  Amos  he  bin  dar  since,  an'  never  did 
talk  no  mo'  foolishness  'bout  quittin'  no  mo' ! 

"  Ca'line  she  wuz  mo'  biggoty  'n  ever,  an' 
whop  Amos  mos'  ev'y  day,  but  one  day  Amos 
he  whop  Ca'line,  an'  he  took  an'  whop  all  de 
biggoty  outen  'er 

"  Amoses  ol'  miss,  she  done  give  he  a  pot 
an'  Amos  he  think  mighty  heap  er  dat  same 
pot  an'  put  hit  'in  de  tater  house  an'  tell 
Ca'line  ter  quit  foolin'  wit  hit,  kase  she  done 
brek  hit  'fore  she  knowed.  Den  Amos  he 
went  ter  de  branch  ter  lay  fer  a  big  buck  rab 
bit  what  wuz  trackin'  bout  in  de  mud,  an' 
Ca'line  she  tuk  de  pot  an'  'low  she  gwine  ter 
make  soap  fer  ter  scour  an'  wash  an'  sell  fer 
ter  git  'backer  fer  shese'f  an'  Amos.  Dey 
wuz  hoodoo  on  dat  pot  sho's  yo'  bawn,  chile, 
kase  soon's  Ca'line  take  hit  outen  de  tater 
hole  hit  jes'  fall  an'  gen-tle-men  !  hit  jes'  bust 
right  wide  open  ! 

"  OP  Amos  he  an't  seed  no  buck  rabbit  at 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  43 

de  branch  an'  kern  'long  back,  an'  when  Mam 
Ca'line  seed  him  a  comin'  she  jess  broke  an' 
run,  an'  'low  she  hide  me  'neath  de  bade. 

"  Ca'line  she  most  big  az  de  bade  heres'f, 
an'  when  she  git  '  most  under  she  hitched, 
an'  Amos  he  kotch  'er.  De  Lord  he  tole 
Amos  dis  sher's  de  time  ter  whop  Ca'line  lak 
she  never  did  be  whopped  befo',  an'  gen-tle- 
men,  he  jess  done  hit  !  He  whopped  'er  an' 
whopped  'er  twel  she  jess  preach' !  an' 
beg  dat  leetle  finiky  nigger  lak  a  dog  ter  quit 
beaten'  'er  an'  HP  up  de  dade.  Bimeby 
Amos  he  quit  an'  HP  up  de  bade,  an'  Mam 
Ca'line  she  back  out,  but  Ca'line  she  didn't 
want  ter  set  down.  Ca'line  she  never  set 
down  in  prar  meetin'  dat  week,  ner  she  a'n't 
never  whopped  oF  Amos  lak  she  used'  no 


Tobif  9  Call. 
mnrv 

rHOSE  who  knew  Tobit  best  enter 
tained  the  worst  opinion  of  him. 
He  was  a  dignified  old  negro  with 
a  halo-like  brush  of  snow  white 
hair,  and  eyes  very  like  those  of 
a  little  King  Charles  spaniel. 
He  gained  a  precarious  living  by  doing  odd 
jobs  for  different  families  and  paying  court 
to  the  cooks  in  the  neighborhood. 

Yet  Tobit  was  much  liked  for  he  was  very 
obliging.  Indeed,  so  obliging  was  he  that  a 
new  comer  in  the  neighborhood,  having  ex 
pressed  a  desire  for  a  number  of  buff  Cochin 
hens,  Tobit  trudged  a  matter  of  seven  miles 
in  the  still  small  hours  of  a  very  dark  and 
frosty  night,  to  a  henhouse  upon  a  man's 

44 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  45 

farm  where  he  knew  the  buff  beauties  could 
be  had  for  the  bagging.  Nobody  but  Tobit 
would  think  of  warming  the  edge  of  a  board 
before  insinuating  it  beneath  the  breast  of 
a  sleepy  fowl,  so  that  they  would  step  thereon 
and  be  brought  more  readily  to  the  bog. 

Tobit  was  also  a  Christian,  believing  sin 
cerely  in  the  efficiency  of  praise  and  prayer, 
especially  the  latter,  for  when  the  day's  work 
was  done  and  his  wife  had  kindled  a  fire  in  the 
cabin  hearth,  the  old  man  would  take  his  much 
thummed  Bible,  and  pressing  his  grand 
daughter  into  service,  would  make  her  spell 
over  and  over  his  favorite  verses  —  always 
those  which  spoke  of  giving. 

"  Ask  and  it  shall  be  given  unto  thee  " 
made  a  profound  impression  on  his  mind, 
and  long  after  Melissa  had  closed  the  book 
and  slipped  away  to  play  among  the  growing 
corn,  he  sat  pondering  the  words  :  "  Ax  an' 
hit  shall  be  given  untoe  yuh.'  Ax !  De  Lawd 
lows  yuh  mus'  ax,  an'  dat's  what  I  gwyne  do." 


46  TOBIT'S  CALL. 

And  ask  he  did  ;  so  continuously,  persis 
tently,  and  to  the  neglect  of  other  duties, 
until  at  last  his  wife  grew  tired  of  his  noisy 
and  wordy  petitions,  especially  as  there  was 
no  tangible  result. 

Meeting  the  deacon  of  his  church  in  the 
road  one  day,  Tobit  adressed  him  on  the 
subject  nearest  his  heart,  and  the  following 
conversation  ensued : 

"  Br'er  'Lias,  does  yuh  b'lieb  in  de  scri' 
tur'  ? " 

Brother  'Lias  answered  readily :  "Dat  I 
do'  praise  de  Lawd  !  " 

"  Does  yuh  b'lieb  de  par'bles  ?  "  anxiously 
asked  Tobit. 

"  Dat  I  do.  Ev'y  word  o'  dem  par'bles 
am  fact,  sho  nuff.  Gospel  troof,  yuh  know, 
Br'er  Tobit." 

The  deacon's  decision  satisfied  Tobit,  who 
became  even  more  devout  than  ever,  praying 
with  redoubled  fervor  and  increased  unction, 
and  with  the  augmentation  of  his  religious 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  47 

zeal  the  old  man's  taste  for  manual  labor 
lessened,  thus  his  wife  and  children  were 
left  to  work  their  own  wills  among  the  cotton 
rows  and  potato  hills  of  his  once  prized 
"crap." 

Martha,  his  wife,  remonstrated,  at  first 
very  midly,  for  she  was  a  peacable  woman, 
and  her  objections  were  met  with  a  quotation 
from  scriptures  which  silenced  her  for  the 
time  being. 

Tobit  continued  his  nightly  petitions,  his 
tones  growing  louder  and  more  earnest, 
until  they  reached  the  ears  of  the  white 
people  at  the  big  house.  The  work  among 
the  crops  was  getting  heavy.  There  was 
much  hoeing  and  plowing  to  be  done  and 
Martha  who  was  an  industrious  soul,  looked 
on  Tobit's  spending  so  much  time  in  religious 
exercise,  as  a  "  mess  of  pint  blank  foolish 
ness,"  especially  as  the  time  was  necessary 
to  the  welfare  of  the  crops. 

Martha  was  a  large  woman,  twice  Tobit's 


48  TOBIT'S  CALL. 

size,  who  was  a  little  finicky  nigger,  crippled 
with  the  hardships  of  many  winters,  and  one 
day  the  woman  shouldered  her  hoe,  march 
ing  homeward,  intending  to  have  it  out  once 
and  for  all  with  the  little  old  man. 

Tobit  was  sitting  in  his  hide-bottomed 
chair  before  the  cabin,  tilted  backward  at  a 
comfortable  angle,  his  open  hymn  book  on 
his  knee,  while  he  luxuriously  dozed  the 
sunny  hours  away.  Martha  came  around 
the  corner  of  the  cabin,  and  taking  in  the 
situation  at  a  glance  gave  free  vent  to  her 
long  restrained  anger  and  disapproval 

"  Dar  yuh  sets,"  she  observed,  pointing  a 
long  finger  at  the  old  man,  "  a-foolin'  an'  a- 
momickin  de  time  what  yer  orter  spen'  in  de 
fiel,  '  an  what  it  gwyne  git  yer  ?  Who  yer  'low 
gwyne  dig  an'  plow  while  you  is  preachin'  an' 
a  gwyne  on  ?  Mebbe,"  jeerinigly,  "  yuh  spects 
de  Lawd  gwyne  done  sen'  taters  a-ready 
growed  an'  dug  fer  yuh  ter  eat  when  defrost 
done  come.  But  ef  yuh  does  spec  dat," 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  49 

and  she  came  nearer,  emphasizing  her  words 
with  many  shakes  of  her  long,  black  ringer, 
"  yuh  is  a  plumb  bawn  fool,  an  is  done  gone 
clean  'stracted  entirely  ! " 

"De  Lawd'll  pervide,"  observed  Tobit 
serenely,  but  at  the  same  time  edging  away 
from  the  menacing  hand  of  his  better  half. 
"  De  good  book  done  say,  'ax  an'  yuh  will 
git,'  but  yuh  is  one  er  dem  widout  de  light. 
Pray,  'ooman,  pray  !  " 

Martha,  realizing  her  helplessness  before 
such  argument,  carried  her  case  to  the  young 
master. 

"  Taint  no  soter  use,  mars  David,  he  jess 
won't  work !  He  done  turn  plumb  bawn 
fool  bout  dat  prayin,'  an  'de  grass  a-takin  de 
taters  an'  de  goobers.  He  'low,"  she  said 
scornfully,  as  though  Tobit's  assertion  was 
simply  a  qualification  for  the  mad  house. 
"  He  low  he  gwyne  pray  for  taters,  plumb 
raised  and  done  dug  lak  dem  in  yuh  paw's 
tater  house,  an'  dat  de  Lawd  gwyne  send  em' 


50  TOBIT'S  CALL. 

sho,"  and  Martha  curled  her  wide  lips  over 
her  toothless  gums  in  supreme  disdain,  yet 
anxiously  reading  her  young  master's  face 
the  while. 

"  Perhaps  Tobit  has  that  faith,  Martha," 
the  young  man  answered  mildly,  "but  I'm 
going  to  see  what  I  can  do  to  persuade  him 
to  help  you  with  the  crop,  just  the  same.  Its 
a  shame  to  make  you  do  all  the  work." 

There  was  a  world  of  trouble  in  the  black 
woman's  soft  eyes  as  she  departed,  for  she 
felt  that  her  young  master  had  not  entirely 
sympathized  with  her,  and  could  she  have 
seen  the  amused  smile  that  dawned  upon  his 
visage  when  her  back  was  turned,  she  would 
have  been  even  more  unhappy. 

At  an  early  hour,  Martha,  wearied  with 
her  labor,  retired  to  rest  in  her  corner  of  the 
cabin,  while  the  children  lay  sleeping  as  they 
happened  to  fall  while  eating  the  dodgers 
that  were  their  portion  of  supper. 

Tobit  thrust  a  lightwood  knot  among  the 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  51 

embers  and  by  the  flickering  rays  of  its  flames 
began  his  orisons.  Melissa,  the  child  who 
spelled  the  scripture  over  for  him,  lay  asleep 
upon  the  floor,  but  his  favorite  passages 
were  familiar  enough  to  quote  after  some 
fashion  and  that  satisfied  the  old  man.  He 
gave  himself  the  text,  verse  and  chapter,  and 
began  to  preach  and  pray,  and  while  he 
prayed  an  idea  occurred  to  him.  He  would 
pray  for  potatoes,  and  perhaps  things  would 
happen  so  that  the  tubers  would  be  forth 
coming  and  Martha's  objections  to  his  mode 
of  life  be  forever  silenced.  Perhaps  Tobit 
had  his  own  idea  as  to  where  the  potatoes 
were  to  come  from  when  he  lifted  up  such  a 
fervent  appeal  for  their  appearance,  though 
what  followed,  happened  without  his  knowl 
edge  or  connivance. 

Setting  on  the  hearth  among  the  pots  and 
pans  was  a  pocelain  plate  a  gift  from  Tobit's 
mistress  and  one  that  he  very  much  prized, 
and  as  Tobit  uttered  his  appeal  for  the  tubers 


52  TOBIT'S  CALL. 

a  most  surprising  thing  —  to  liim  —  occurred. 
A  yam,  very  large  and  round  came  thumping 
down  the  chimney,  falling  among  the  coals 
and  making  the  ashes  fly,  then  another  and 
another,  until  a  perfect  rain  of  potatoes 
poured  down,  shattering  the  prized  plate  and 
extinguishing  the  flare  of  his  torch. 

The  old  fellow  fell  back  upon  his  haunches, 
his  eyes  bulging  and  his  mouth  agape,  watch 
ing  in  speechless  awe  the  answer  to  his  peti 
tion,  until  the  last  yam  had  fallen  with  a 
dull  thud  upon  his  hearth,  then  with  trembl 
ing  hands  he  rekindled  a  blaze,  and  gazing 
awe-struck  upon  the  visions  of  his  cherished 
plate,  he  said : 

"  Oh  Mars  Lawd,  dissher  ol'  nigger  mighty 
proud  yuh  done  listen  ter  he  pray'r,  but  at 
de  same  spechul  time,  good  Lawd,  yuh  need 
n't  a-bruck  ol'  misses'  chana  plate.  Amen." 

The  news  of  the  falling  of  the  yams  spread 
like  wildfire,  and  numerous  calls  came  to 
Tobit  to  preach  at  revivals  and  camp  meet- 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  53 

ings,  while  preparations  for  his  ordination 
were  being  made. 

Martha  was  meekly  silent  but  the  glance 
she  cast  at  her  young  master  in  passing,  told 
as  plainly  as  words  that  she  had  her  own 
opinion  as  to  where  the  yams  had  come 
from. 

At  last  Tobit  went  before  the  board  of 
examination  and  was  duly  qualified  to  preach. 
He  answered  all  questions  satisfactorily, 
and  much  impressed  the  board  when  answer 
ing  one  put  by  Deacon  'Liar  Gibbs. 

"  Br'er  Tobit  is  yer  got  ter  whar  yuh  beliebe 
in  de  par'bles  yit  ? 

"  Ev'y  blessed   par'ble,  bless  Gawd  !  " 

"Does  yuh  know  any  er  dem  well  nuff  ter 
repeat  ? " 

"  Dat  I  does,  I  knows  'em  all,  but  dat  one 
bout  Pothipar  an'  Jezebal  is  de  truest  an' 
mos'  pow'ful  one  er  all.  Hit  goes  dis-away. 
Yuh  see  Pothipar  was  a-ridin'  down  in  his 
charyit  f'um  Jerusalem  into  Jericho.  He 


54  TOBIT'S  CALL. 

druv  long  lil  belt  w'en  'long  kem  Jezebal, 
She  say  :  'W'ite  man,  gimme  a  ride,'  an'  he 
done  took  her  up  behin'  'im  in  his  charyit. 
An'  dee  went  'long  lil  furder  an1  dee  fell 
'mong  t'ieves.  An'  dee  'low  :  '  Frow  downs 
Jezebal ! ' 

"  An  Pothipar  he  'low :  'Let  'im  among 
yuh  widout  sin  cas'  de  fus  stone,'  but  dee 
'low  all  de  louder  'Frow  down  Jezabal ! ' 
An  den  Pothipar  frew  down  Jezabal,  but 
dem  no-count  white  trash  warn't  satisfied  an 
keep  a  yellin,'  'Frow  down  Jezabal ! '  An  den 
he  frew  her  down  seven  times  but  dem  white 
t'ieves  was  dat  pizen  mean  dat  dee  warn't 
satisfied  nohow  an'  kep  a  yellin  '  Frow  down 
Jezabal,'  an  den  Pothipar  he  fow  down  dat 
'ooman  sebenty  times  seben,  an'  of  dem 
remains  dee  gadered  up  seven  basketfuls." 


H  Game  of  Craps, 
vwww 

KDME  seben,  come  leben  !  " 
The  low  monotone  of  negro 
voices  accompanied  the  steady 
click  of  the  dice,  as  first  one 
man  shook  and  rolled  them,  and 
then  his  opponent  tried  his  luck 
with  the  contrary  little  ivories. 

It  was  a  closely  contested  crap  game 
between  "  slew  foot  Jake  "  and  a  new  hand 
on  the  docks  who  had  worked  his  way  up  the 
river  from  the  rice  wharves. 

Early  in  the  day  Jake  met  the  new  hand 
and  thinking  that  possibly  he  was  a  fresh 
coon    to    be    singed,    inveigled    him    into  a' 
friendly    game    of    craps.     Jake    was    the 
champion  crap  player  among  the  many  light 

55 


56  A    GAME    OF    CRAPS. 

fingered  gentry  who  made  the  cotton  wharves 
their  stamping  ground,  and  very  few  escaped 
him  without  being  plucked. 

During  the  first  hour  or  so  very  little 
silver  changed  hands.  The  gamin'  and  river 
rats  began  to  jeer  and  sing,  tired  of  the 
monotony  of  the  proceedings, 

"  Shoot  yer  Craps  an'  have  yer  fun 
Befo"  yer  see  de  copper  come." 

But  Jake  and  the  new  "  hand "  kept 
steadily  shaking  and  scattering  the  cubes 
and  the  small  handful  of  change  grew  slowly 
into  what  seemed  to  Jake  a  stake  worth  play 
ing  for. 

It  was  growing  dark  here  among  the  walls 
of  high  piled  cotton  bales,  and  the  game  con 
tinued  in  favor  of  the  stranger  darkey,  who 
signified  his  intention  of  soon  "gwyne  back 
down  de  ribber,"  but  Jake  vetoed  the  move 
ment. 

"  Yo'  is  done  had  de  game  all  yo'  way 
'cause  I  let  yo,'  "  he  said  easily,  "  now  I'm 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  57 

gwyne  show  yo'  how  ter  shoot  craps,"  Jake 
shambled  about  and  pulled  from  between  the 
cotten  bales  a  few  lightwood  knots,  and 
with  a  little  cotton  lint  soon  started  a  bright 
blaze.  Then  he  produced  a  little  more  silver, 
spread  it  on  the  ground  between  them  and 
began  to  rattle  the  dice  vigorously. 

"  Hold  on  dar!  Hold  on  dar,  Mr.  Jake  !" 
And  taking  the  cubes  in  his  hands  the 
stranger  negro  weighed  them  critically, 
tossing  them  to  an  fro  in  his  horny  palms, 
and  then  dropping  them  back  separately  into 
the  box. 

"  Dat's  lak  yo'  low  country  nigger,"  sneered 
Jake  disdainfully  "  yo,  specs  I  not  gwyne  tote 
fair,  so  I  gwyne  watch  you,  I  is." 

It  was  quite  dark  now,  the  idlers  who  had 
stood  about  earlier  in  the  game  drifted  away 
and  at  last  the  two  gamblers  found  them 
selves  quite  alone.  The  fitful  flames  from  the 
blazing  pine  knots  flickered  before  them, 
throwing  their  grotesque  silhouettes  against 


58  A    GAME    OF    CRAPS. 

the  piled  cotton.  The  river  patrol  passed 
them,  parading  slowly,  arm  in  arm,  and  the 
dice  were  quickly  whisked  out  of  sight  only 
to  be  brought  forth  again  when  they  were 
left  a  safe  distance  behind. 

The  night  wore  on  and  the  gamblers 
seemed  as  eager  to  continue  as  they  had  been 
earlier  in  the  evening.  Finally  the  hands  on 
the  great  fiery  eye  of  the  town  clock  pointed 
to  the  hour  of  midnight,  and  the  familar  sounds 
along  the  river  front  began  to  die  away,  the 
stragglers  wh,o  made  their  living  by  the 
traffic  among  the  boat  hands  had  long  since 
disappeared,  and  the  roustabouts  were  all 
sleeping,  coiled  up  in  nooks  and  crannies 
among  the  fright  or  lying  supine  on  top  of 
the  cotton  piled  on  the  wharves  or  on  the 
decks  of  their  dingy  little  river  tugs. 

It  was  not  until  now  that  the  game  began 
in  earnest  for  Jake,  for  now  he  reached  into 
the  pocket  of  his  baggy,  tattered  trousers  and 
brought  forth  some  silver  coin,  a  dirty  paper 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  59 

bill  or  two,  and  from  another  pocket  in  the 
nondescript  garment  that  did  duty  for  a  coat,  a 
quart  gourd  of  whisky  was  produced.  Taking 
a  long  pull  at  the  latter  he  spread  the  money 
on  the  ground,  handed  the  gourd  to  his  com 
panion,  then  he  waited,  eyeing  his  antagonist 
sharply. 

The  stranger  negro  sampled  the  whisky 
generously,  then  as  if  not  to  be  outdone  by 
Jake  in  the  matter  of  anteing,  he  too  reached 
into  his  pocket  and  from  its  depths  fished 
up  a  small  bag,  from  which  he  took  two 
gold  pieces  of  five  dollars  each,  and  rubbing 
them  upon  the  leg  of  his  trousers  until  they 
glittered  brightly,  laid  them  beside  his  oppon 
ent's  less  handsome  pile. 

Jake's  little  oily  reddish  eyes  glittered  as 
he  rolled  them  on  the  stranger  darkey.  He  had 
never  seen  such  an  amount  of  the  evil  root 
at  a  river  side  crap  game  before,  and  there 
was  a  note  of  keen  suspicion  in  his  husky 
question  :  "  Whar  yo  git  em  ?  " 


60  A    GAME    OF    CRAPS. 

"  Hit  meks  no  difFence  whar  I  git  em," 
the  other  replied  stolidly,  "  Dar  dey  is." 

Jake  could  not  dispute  this  self  evident 
fact  so  taking  up  the  dice  he  began  to  shake, 
muffling  the  rattle  of  the  cubes  in  his  big  fist. 
Luck  seemed  to  have  deserted  Jake  for  he 
lost  steadily  though  he  played  carefully  and 
brought  into  use  several  skilful  tricks. 

The  gourd  of  corn  liquor  circulated  freely 
between  them  and  both  men  were  well  under 
the  influence  of  the  rank  popskull  when  they 
agreed  that  the  next  successful  throw  should 
decide  the  game  finally.  It  was  the  darkest 
hour  of  the  night,  just  when  the  stars  seemed 
to  have  burned  out  and  dropped  one  by  one 
from  the  inky  pall  of  the  sky,  and  before  the 
first  faint,  intangible  streaks  of  mist  begin  to 
herald  the  coming  of  the  saffron  grey  that 
foretells  the  birth  of  dawn.  There  was  no 
sound  save  the  measured  footfalls  of  the 
patrol  as  he  sauntered  past,  glancing  care 
lessly  at  the  two  men,  apparently  boat  hands 


SOUTHERN  ECHOES.  6 1 

dozing  the  night  away  around  a  scant  light- 
wood  fire. 

It  was  the  stranger  negro's  throw.  Jake 
reached  out  and  put  the  ends  of  the  charred 
sticks  closer  together,  blowing  them  with 
his  breath  into  a  feeble  flame,  reserving  a 
small  knotty  piece  which  he  twisted  nervously 
in  his  hands. 

The  stranger  negro  shook  the  dice  and 
scattered  them,  throwing  the  best  hand  of  the 
whole  evening,  he  leaned  over  counting  the 
throw,  and  when  about  to  gather  up  the 
stake,  as  quick  as  thought,  Jake's  hand  flew 
out,  there  was  a  subdued  crash,  sudden  yet 
decisive,  and  the  stranger  negro  fell  with  a 
thud,  face  downward  upon  the  stakes. 

It  was  only  a  moment  till  Jake  had  posses- 
ion  of  the  money  together  with  the  bag  from 
which  the  man  had  taken  it,  then  carefully 
stamping  out  the  remnant  of  the  fire  he 
started  on  a  swift,  noiseless  run  through  the 
avenues  of  cotton  bales. 


62  A    GAME    OF    CRAPS. 

When  day  broke  Jake  had  left  the  city  far 
behind  and  was  skulking  along  the  country 
road  in  the  shadows  of  hedge  and  thicket, 
and  when  the  sun  arose  high  enough  to  dispel 
the  mist,  making  objects  visible  at  a  great 
distance  on  the  straight  silvery  road,  he  crept 
into  the  fastness  of  a  dry  swamp  and  slept 
until  night  fell  and  he  could  resume  his 
stealthy  journey. 

Coming  to  a  small  rustic  footbridge  that 
spanned  a  rippling  creek  across  the  road,  he 
stopped  to  slake  his  thirst  getting  down  on 
his  knees  to  dip  his  lips  into  the  stream  after 
the  manner  of  four  footed  animals.  When  he 
had  slaked  his  thirst  and  sat  gazing  about,  a 
small  black  girl  came  around  the  bend  in  the 
road.  She  carried  a  small  rush  basket  on 
her  head  and  a  bright  tin  pail  in  one  hand. 
Slew  foot  Jake  approached  her  as  she  came 
up,  asking  roughly :  "  What  yo'  got  in  yo' 
bucket  gall  ?  " 

The  girl  hung  back  as  though  afraid  to 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  63 

answer  and  the  man  repeated  his  question 
with  a  significant  movement  of  the  gnarled 
stick  he  had  cut  in  the  hedge. 

"  Break'fas,'  sah,"  she  mumbled,  trem 
blingly. 

"  Break'fas'  ?  Dat's  jess  what  I's  lookin' 
fer,"  he  declared.  "  Fotch  hit  here,"author- 
itively. 

"  Hit's  paw's  !  "  with  a  faint  intonation  of 
frightened  unwillingness.  Jake  made  an 
other  gesture  with  the  stick,  and  the  girl 
yielded  up  the  pail  and  basket  without  more 
ado.  The  hot  corn  pone  and  fried  bacon 
strips  were  eagerly  devoured,  and  washed 
down  with  the  draught  of  molasses  and 
water  the  pail  contained,  then  Jake  set  out 
briskly,  his  big  splay  feet  making  ugly 
tracks  in  the  soft  moist  sand  of  the  road. 

More  than  a  year  had  passed,  and  the 
story  of  a  negro  being  found  murdered 
among  the  cotton  bales  on  the  river  front 


64  A    GAME    OF    CRAPS. 

was  forgotten.  However  the  facts  of  the  case 
were  chronicled  in  the  records  of  police  head 
quarters  and  for  a  week  or  so,  a  sharp  look 
out  had  been  kept  for  the  suspected  murderer. 
No  information  could  be  gathered  as  to  Jake's 
whereabouts,  he  having  disappeared  com 
pletely. 

One  warm  morning  the  chief  of  the  force 
sat  in  his  office,  smoking  and  imbibing  occas 
ional  draughts  of  a  cooling  liquid.  He  did 
not  feel  particularly  like  arousing  himself  to 
any  great  exertion  that  morning,  and  it  was 
in  no  very  amiable  mood  that  he  answered 
the  humble  salute  of  a  big  negro  who  sham 
bled  in  and  stood  patiently  beside  the  desk. 

"Well  what  do  you  want  ?  "  the  chief  de 
manded  gruffly 

'•  I  want's  ter  tell  de  boss  er  de  police  a 
story,  sah." 

"  Well  tell  it."  The  man  twirled  his  old 
battered  hat  and  shuffled  his  feet  nervously 
on  the  floor,  "  Is  yo'  de  boss  ?  "  he  enquired 
politely. 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  65 

"  Um-hum  !  "  the  chief  drawled  indiffer 
ently. 

"Well,  boss,  sah,"  he  began  hesitatingly, 
I  spects  yo'all  is  been  lookin'  fer  a  nigger 
named  slew  foot  Jake  what  knocked  anoder 
nigger  in  de  haid  wid  a  light'ood  knot  last 
shippin'  time  ?  "  The  chief  nodded. 

"  Dat's  me,  sah,"  declared  the  negro 
modestly.  "  I  done  tap  'im  in  de  haid,  took 
he's  money  an'  lit  out." 

"  The  chief  took  his  feet  from  the  desk, 
got  up  leisurely  and  placed  himself  between 
the  negro  and  the  door.  "  What  did  you  kill 
him  for  ?  "  he  asked  lazily. 

"  Hit  was  disser  way,  boss,"  the  negro  an 
swered  with  the  air  of  one  telling  a  simple 
truth.  "  I  was  a  gwyne  ter  see  a  gall  down 
in  Pepp'mint  alley.  She  done  had  a  man  an' 
she  'low  she  not  gwyne  quit  him  lessen  she 
git  one  dat  git  her  gol'  year-bobs.  I  beg'er 
an'  beg'er  but  'tan't  no  manner  er  use,  she 
won't  quit  Pete  lessen  she  git  dem  gold  year- 


66  A    GAME    OF    CRAPS. 

bobs,  she  'lows  dey  mus'  be  goF  too,  an'  no 
foolishness.  VVhar  I  gwyne  git  'em  ? "  he 
asked  pathetically,  spreading  out  both  hands, 
empty  palms  upward.  "  Den  dat  nigger 
come  'long  wid  money  in  a  bag.  We-all 
shook  craps  an'  he  tek  mine  an'  hissen  too. 
Den  I  taps  him  wid  de  light'ood  knot  an' 
bust  his  haid,  jess  so." 

"  Well  ? " 

"Massah,  boss  !  Den  I  an't  thinkin'  bout  no 
gall  in  Pep'mint  alley.  I  jess  furgit  all  'bout 
her  an'  walk  plumb  out  in  de  rice  fields.  I 
done  tek  a  'ooman  out  dar  what  don't  know 
nothin'  'tall  bout  such  foolishness,  but  de 
speerit  er  dat-'ar  nigger  what  I  done  bust  in 
de  haid  won't  let  me  res'.  Every  blessed 
night  he  come.  I  move  away  from  dat  place 
down  ter  'tother  side  de  swamp,  but  tain't 
no  manner  er  use.  When  night  come  I  set 
dar  an'  jess  wait,  an,  sho  nuff,  yere  he  come. 
He  tap  at  de  shutter  an  he  tap  at  de  doo,'  an' 
when  de  fire  go  out  he  set  on  de  hath  wid 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  67 

he's  foots  shufflein'  in  de  chimbly.  I  got  dat 
niggar  what  work's  wid  de  conjur  ter  put  he's 
spell  on  de  house,  but  dat  speerit  ant  notice 
de  spell  'tall.  Dat  speerit  jess  driv  me, 
boss.  I  jess  had  ter  come  back  an'  tell  all 
about  hit. 

Jake  stood  fumbling  his  old  remnant  of  a 
hay-maker's  hat,  all  animation  having  depart 
ed,  leaving  his  fierce  black  countenance  a  list' 
less  blank. 

He  had  told  his  story  and  had  nothing 
more  to  say.  The  chief  continued  to  smoke 
but  made  no  comment,  he  stepped  to  the 
door  and  pressed  a  button  softly,  still  keep 
ing  a  vigilant,  torpid  eye  upon  the  negro. 

Now  Jake  fills  a  place  on  the  county  gang 
and  the  spirit  of  his  victim  haunts  him  no 
longer. 


'Ccmpc's  Venture. 

WWW 

rEMPE  had  a  scheme  in  her  mind. 
It  seemed  to  her  a  very  brilliant 
scheme  indeed,  and  one  that 
could  be  worked  as  easy  as  falling 
off  a  log. 

The  next  week  would  be  court 
week  in  the  town,  and  everybody,  black  and 
white,  in  the  county  would  be  about  the 
court  house,  every  day  and  all  day,  during 
that  week.  Croppers  would  take  the  oppor 
tunity  to  come  in  with  part  of  their  crop  to 
enjoy  the  annual  holiday  on  the  proceeds, 
consequently  money  would  be  plenty  and 
Tempe  thought  she  might  as  well  secure  a 
little  of  it  while  it  was  going. 

Of  course  Tempe  had  no  money  to  begin 

68 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  69 

with.  A  woman  who  has  had  fifteen  children 
and  "  brung  em  all  up  "  to  the  age  of  indis 
cretion,  is  not  very  apt  to  be  burdened  with 
very  much  spare  cash,  so  very  naturally 
Tempe  turned  to  her  young  mistress  in  her 
difficulty. 

Miss  Ella  was  sorting  her  week's  laundry 
in  the  back  piazza  when  the  old  woman  came 
in  at  the  side  gate  and  hobbled  across  the 
yard ;  seating  herself  on  the  topmost  step, 
with  many  rheumatic  grunts  and  groans, 
Tempe  began  to  open  the  way  to  her  enter 
prise.  "  Miss  Ella  honey,"  she  said  insinu 
atingly,  "  you  never  is  failed  me  yit,  is  yer?  " 

Miss  Ella  looked  up  from  counting  her 
towels,  a  little  puzzled.  "  No,  Tempe,  I 
believe  not,"  she  said,  "what  do  you  want 
now  ?  " 

Then  the  old  creature  unfolded  the  palm 
which  seemed  to  her  such  a  good  one.  Next 
week  would  be  court  week  in  town  as  Miss 
Ella  knew.  There  would  be  swarms  of  hun- 


70  TEMPE'S  VENTURE. 

gry  people  on  the  streets,  and  Tempe  pro 
posed,  with  Miss  Ella's  help  to  feed  the 
hungry  with  profit  to  herself.  Would  Miss 
Ella  get  her  a  permit  to  put  her  stand  on  the 
bit  of  sward  before  the  court-house  gate  and 
give  her  sufficient  to  begin  with,  waiting  for 
her  pay  until  Tempe  should  realize  it  from 
the  sale  of  the  food  ? 

At  first  Miss  Ella  was  doubtful,  the  permit 
could  be  easily  arranged,  as  the  mayor  of  the 
village  claimed  kin  with  the  young  woman, 
but  the  food  was  another  matter.  One  does 
not  empty  one's  larder  on  first  request  and 
without  due  consideration,  especially  when 
one  is  a  dweller  in  that  meagre  borderland 
known  as  genteel  poverty.  But  Tempe  pleaded 
so  earnestly  that  her  young  mistress  could  not 
but  yield,  "  I'll  pay  yer  back  for  dem  pervis- 
ions,  chile,"  she  said.  "  I  will  if  Gawd 
spares  me,"  and  so  the  required  rations  were 
forth  coming  without  more  delay. 

All  day  Tempe  hobbled  about  the  kitchen 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  J I 

getting  ready  for  her  appearance  before  the 
public.  She  was  a  first  class  cook  and  the 
work  she  turned  out  lacked  nothing  in  ap 
pearance  or  quality.  Bushels  of  golden  brown 
biscuit,  crisp  and  sweet,  a  large  home  cured 
ham  boiled  to  a  turn,  a  pile  of  crullers  deli 
cious  to  taste  and  smell.  Many  fat  pullets 
were  sacrificed  and  the  remains  fried  to  that 
perfection  that  never  fails  to  tempt  a  south 
ern  appetite. 

Tempe's  display  looked  very  appetizing 
when  placed  to  best  advantage  next  day.  In 
deed,  she  made  a  brilliant  spot  of  color,  as 
clad  in  her  bright  pink  gown,  her  neat  white 
apron  and  vivid  "  head-hand  kercher,"  she 
waddled  about  complacently  beneath  the 
spreading  branches  of  the  feathery  elms. 

The  old  woman  had  not  been  very  long  in 
evidence  before  crowds  of  gamin,  scenting 
the  novelty  of  the  thing  began  to  gather. 
They  jeered  Tempe,  whirling  about  her  in 
distracting  cart-wheel  somersaults  while 


72  TEMPE'S  VENTURE. 

others  took  the  opportunity  of  "  snaking " 
delicacies  from  her  tempting  store. 

But  the  appearance  of  the  mayor  himself 
put  the  gang  to  route  for  the  time,  anyhow, 
as  he  walked  up  to  the  old  woman  exclaim 
ing  :  "  Hi,  maum  Tempe,  what's  all  this  ?  " 

Tempe's  thick,  liver-colored  lips  curled  over 
pink  toothless  gums  in  a  wide,  pleased  smile. 
"  What'll  ye  hab,  Mars  Torm,  sah  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"  Well,  a  chicken  sandwich  and  a  cruller." 
Tempe  served  out  the  delicacy  and  his  honor 
munched  it,  exchanging  genial  banter  with 
the  old  woman  the  while.  The  wagon  moved 
away  and  other  customers  came,  and  the  old 
woman  watched  her  stock  in  trade  dwindle 
with  much  complacence. 

But  her  troubles  were  not  ended.  They 
had  not  even  begun,  until  a  customer,  one  of 
her  own  color  arrived.  He  was  a  big  man, 
evidently  from  "  down  de  country,"  as  his 
clothes  were  sprinkled  liberally  with  tiny 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  73 

flots  of  cotton,  his  big  splay  feet  were  minus 
shoes,  and  his  general  looped  and  windowed 
raggedness  betrayed  the  supreme  indifference 
to  personal  appearance  characteristic  of  the 
country  negro.  Stopping  near  the  table  he 
hailed  Tempe  :  "  Hi,  lady,  what  ye  got  ?  " 

"  Vittles,  sah,"  with  the  indifference  of 
one  negro  to  another.  "  Sellin'  'em,  I  is." 

"  What  yer  ax  ?" 

"  What  dat  yer  want  ?  "  and  Tempe  un 
covered  her  stock. 

"  What  yer  ax  ter  let  meh  eat  ?  he  asked, 
roving  his  small,  oily  eye  over  the  display  of 
food.  Tempe  was  somewhat  taken  aback  at 
this  novel  question  and  for  a  moment  was  at 
a  loss  to  meet  it  properly,  "  Um-m  "  she 
stammered,  hesitatingly,  "how  much  you 
gwyne  eat  ? " 

"Twel  I  done  had  plenty." 

Tempe  hesitated  a  moment  longer,  then, 
still  doubtfully  offered  the  proposition  :  You 
gib  meh  half  a-dollah  an'  eat  all  yuh  wants." 

"  Eat  twel  I  done  had  plenty  ? " 


74  TEMPE'S    VENTURE. 

"Yas  sah."  The  man  handed  over  the 
half  dollar  and  seating  himself,  began  an  ons 
laught  that  put  poor  Tempe  entirely  to  rout 
The  fine,  big  ham  was  peeled  to  the  bone, 
the  pile  of  biscuit  dwindled  as  if  by  magic, 
one  biscuit  serving  for  a  single  bite.  Crul 
lers  and  chicken  went  the  way  of  the  rest, 
and  Tempe,  her  eyes  bulging,  remonstrated 
vigorously  at  every  mouthful. 

"  Yuh  done  eat  more'n  a  half-dollah's 
wuth,  man  ! "  She  insinuated  more  than  once, 
but  the  negro  eat  steadily  on,  making  no  an 
swering  comment. 

The  ham  and  bread  gone,  the  crullers  van 
ished,  the  negro  turned  his  attention  to  a 
pile  of  pies,  a  reserved  force.  Then  Tempe 
arose  in  much  wrath,  and  in  a  high  falsetto 
of  determined  anger,  demanded  : 

"  Leave  'dem  pies  alone,  nigger  !  "  but  the 
man  paid  no  heed. 

"  Leave  'em  'lone,  I  say  !  Hear  ?  " 

"Yuh  'lowed  I  could  have  plenty  fer  half 
a  dollah." 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  75 

"  Plenty  !  Yuh  is  done  had  plenty  !  Yuh 
is  done  eat  th'  wuth  er  five  dollahs.  Leave 
dem  pies  alone  !  " 

"  But  I  aint  done  had  aplenty,"  and  he 
cooly  proceeded  to  demolish  pie  after  pie, 
regardless  of  the  old  woman's  vociferous 
remonstrance. 

How  the  matter  might  have  ended  is  not 
known,  for  just  then  the  mayor  sauntering 
down  the  street  was  appealed  to  and  decided 
the  case. 

Tempe  admitted  the  fact  of  having  said 
the  man  could  eat  his  fill  for  the  consider 
ation  of  one  half  dollar,  but  as  his  fill  seemed 
to  cover  or  embrace  a  larger  quantity  than 
Tempe  possessed,  the  mayor  decided  that  he 
had  already  recieved  full  value  for  his  coin 
and  ordered  him  to  begone. 

"The  sandwich  was  good,  Tempe,  can 
you  let  me  have  another  ? "  observed  the 
genial  mayor.  Tempe  surveyed  the  remains 
of  her  little  stock  mournfully,  shaking  her 
head  sadly. 


76  TEMPE'S  VENTURE. 

"  Dat  I  can't,  Mars  Torm,  Dat  nigger 
done  clean  meh  plumb  out.  Nothin  left  but 
de  plates.  Never  did  see  sich  a  niggar 
since  I  was  borned  inter  dis-sher  worl' !  " 

And  so  Tempe's  venture  was  not  the  suc 
cess  that  she  anticipated,  but  she  still  thinks 
that  she  would  have  done  very  well  indeed  if 
she  had  not  "struck  a  snag,"  meaning  the 
man  who  devoured  her  whole  stock  in  trade 
at  one  sitting. 


Re  Knew  the  JVUstrcss, 


'OME  men  git  dey  wives,  an,  den 
ag'in,  some  men's  wives  git 
dem."  No  one  seemed  inclined 
to  dispute  this  philosophy,  and 
catching  the  beady,  black  eye 
of  the  saucy  yellow  housemaid, 
old  'Rastus  continued : 

"  Dar  was  Miss  Millie  Otis,  she  war  as  ol' 
an'  as  ugly  as  Satan,  —  hopin'  de  Lawd'll 
scuse  meh  —  but  she  got  de  fines'  an' 
peartes'  man  in  de  county  fer  a  husban.' 
Dat  man  was  Mars  George  Lamb.  Mars 
George's  paw,  he  done  die  an'  lef  Mars 
George  mighty  nigh  a  hundred  niggers  an' 
fo'  big  plantations. 

"  He  done  lef  him  money  in  de  bank,  an' 

I 

77 


78  HE    KNEW    THE    MISTRESS. 

steamboats.  Yassir," — emphatically,  "steam 
boats  on  de  ribber.  An,"  questioningly,  "what 
Mars  George  done  do  ?  "  He  done  cut  loose 
fas'  as  he  could  trabble  down  ter  New  'leans, 
an'  nobody  an't  seed  'im  nor  year  nuthin'  mo' 
er  'im  twel  he  done  got  shed  o'  land,  niggers, 
boats,  an'  all. 

Den  Miss  Millie  Otis  she  had  mo'  money 
an'  truck'n  Mars  George,  an*  she  truck'n 
sont  'im  word  by  her  paw,  de  ol'  Jedge, 
dat  if  he  wanted  ter  mahry,  she  had  de 
money  fer  two  an'  she  was  done  ready. 
Mars  George  knowed  Miss  Millie  well,  kase 
she  done  a  grown  gall  when  Mars  George 
was  sucklin,'  an'  eve'y  body  knowed  she  ol' 
'nuff  toe  be  de  boy's  maw. 

"  Mars  George  he  study  'bout  hit  a  spell ; 
he  study  'bout  de  niggers  an'  de  Ian'  an'  de 
money  what  he  done  spen',  an'  de  niggers 
an'  Ian'  an'  money  what  Miss  Millie  got,  an' 
bimeby  he  'low  he  ready  toe  mahry  if  Miss 
Millie  done  hab  'im. 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  79 

"  Dey  was  mahried  in  de  big  house  whar' 
de  ol'  jedge  done  die,  an'  when  Miss  Millie 
come  a-prancin'  inter  de  big  parlor  longside 
Mars  George,  lookin'  all  de  same's  de  boy's 
maw,  an'  de  fine  white  frock  an'  long  vail  a- 
streamin'  over  her  face  couldn't  hide  hit 
nuther.  Mars  George,  he  cut  he  eye  at  all 
de  purty  young  galls  what  was  dar,  a  gigglin' 
an'  a  laffin',  but  he  warn't  thinkin'  'bout  dem. 
He  mind  was  on  Miss  Millie's  money  an' 
niggers,  but  law,  hit  warn't  gwyne  do  him 
no  manner  er  good  ef  he  on'y  knowed 
hit. 

"  Ol'  jedge  Otis  done  gib  'em  de  big  house 
an?  dee  settle  down  dar,  an'  Lawd-a-mussy, 
hit  warn't  long  befo'  hit  was  a  dawg's  life 
Miss  Millie  put  toe  Mars  George.  Hit  was : 
'Dis  is  mine,  an'  dat  is  mine,  an'  fore  long 
Miss  Millie  she  'low,  '  you  is  mine,  kase  my 
money  done  bought  yer,'  all  de  same's  if 
Mars  George  was  any  nigger.  Bimeby  Mars 
George  git  tired  dat  'ooman's  foolishness  an' 


8o  HE    KNEW    THE    MISTRESS. 

tink  he  gwyne  toe  New  'leans  an'  gwyne 
take  Miss  Millie's  money  same's  he  done  take 
his'n,  but  Miss  Millie  done  fool  'im,  kase 
she  done  tie  hit  all  up  befo'  dee  done  mahry, 
whar  he  can't  put  a  finger  on  hit. 

Den  Mars  George  git  mad ;  I  tell  yer,  an' 
rear  roun',  but  Miss  Millie  she  just  laff,  an' 
when  Mars  George  git  tired  he  just  slope  off 
ter  New  'leans  all  by  he  self,  an'  Miss  Millie 
an't  seed  'im  from  dat  day  ter  dis.  Kase 
when  de  yankees  done  come,  Mars 
George  went  out  ter  he'p  drive  'em  off,  an' 
he  was  done  clean  kilt,  plumb  the  first  one. 

"  Den  dar  was  Miss  Loulie,  Miss  Millie's 
sister,"  continued  Rastus,  for  he  was  in  a 
deeply  reminiscent  mood  that  ran  on  the 
shortcomings  of  his  white  folks,  the  feminine 
portion  of  which  he  was  an  acute,  if  rather 
crude  judge.  "  Dat  white  'ooman  was  dat 
scornful  o'  poo'  folks  dat  she  'spised  ter  look 
at  'em.  She  'low  de  ground  an't  good  enough 
ter  put  her  foots  to,  an'  when  she  was  a 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  8 1 

ridin'  an'  a  cavotin'  up  de  big  road  on  her 
boss  she'd  drive  clean  over  poo'  folks  ef  dee 
didn't  git  outer  de  road. 

"  All  de  young  bucks  'bout  yere  come  co'tin' 
dat  gall,  but  she  jis  rear  her  haid  back  an' 
driv'  em  all  off,  an'  she  'low,  Miss  Loulie  did, 
'dat  none  of  de  white  folks  roun'  dis  place  had 
fortin'  big  enough  toe  go  long  o'  hern,  an' 
dat  all  de  young  gen'leman  was  too  onnery 
ter  come  a  courtin'  o'  her.' 

"  Den  Miss  Loulie  go  long  ter  New  'leans 
wid  de  ol'  jedge,  her  paw,  an'  dee  tek  me 
long  ter  wait  on  'em.  Me,  an'  Silvy-Ann, 
an'  our  gall.  Bless  de  Lawd  !  Whilst  we  war 
dar,  Miss  Loulie  seed  a  young  buck  dat 
lowed  he  was  from  Kaintuck,  er  Allerbammer, 
er  some  sich  outlandish  place. 

"  He  was  mighty  purty,  an'  mighty  peart, 
an'  he  warn't  stingy  wid  de  niggers,  nuth- 
er." 

"  But  Lawd  !  de  big  tales  dat  white  man 
done  tole  'bout  what  he  got  in  dat  place, 


82  HE    KNEW    THE    MISTRESS. 

whar  he  come  from,  an'  de  niggers  he  low 
call  him .'  Marster  !  "' 

"  One  day  when  he  war  settin'  in  Miss 
Loulie's  parlor  talkin'  his  big  talk,  Miss  Lou- 
lie  she  'low,  she  did  : 

"  '  Mist'  Rob't,  how  many  niggers  is  yuh 
got,  anyhow  ? ' 

"  Mist'  Rob't,  roll  he  eyes  an'  look  at  Miss 
Loulie  kind  er  keerless  like  an'  he  'low: 
'  Well,  Miss  Loulie,  I's  got  John,  my  man, 
an'  Jim,  my  driver,  and  I's  got  forty  mo,'  I 
reckon.'  Ummn  !  Dat  please  Miss  Loulie 
mightily,  an'  hit  warn't  long  befo'  she  'low 
ter  Silvy-Ann,  when  she  war  a-combin'  of  her 
Missis'  hair,  dat  she  '  gwyne  git  mahried,  an' 
de  man  what  she  gwyne  mahry  was  Mist' 
Rob't' 

"  Bless  Gawd,  dee  did  git  mahried,  an'  sich 
a  toe-do  youh  never  laid  yer  eyes  on.  Look 
like  dey  warn't  nuthin'  good  'nough  fer  dat 
weddin'. 

"  Den  when  hit  war  all  over  an'  de  white 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  83 

folks  was  a-gwyne  home,  ol'  Jedge  Otis  call 
all  de  niggers  out  in  de  yard  an'  sorted  out 
dem  he  gwyne  give  Miss  Loulie. 

"  He  done  give  her  me  an'  Silvy-Ann,  an' 
our  chillun  fer  de  house,  an'  Mars  Rob't  done 
'low  he  had  forty  haid,  Mars  Otis  done  give 
Miss  Loulie  forty  haid  mo'  kase  she  warn't 
gwyne  be  out-done  by  nobody. 

"  Befo'  Gawd  !  When  we  all  got  toe  Mars 
Robt's  place,  what  yuh  reckon  ?  Dar  warn't 
no  big  house  dar  'tall !  Dat  sweet  moufed 
white  man  done  git  Miss  Loulie  an'  all  dem 
niggers  an'  he  an't  nuthin'  but  po'  white 
trash,  nohow.  Dar  was  a  little,  ol'  ramshack 
le  place  what  'ud  'scrace  de  overseer  er  de 
cent  white  folks,  an'  dar  warn't  no  culled 
folks  quarters  'tall,  wuth  talkin'  'bout.  Miss 
Loulie  step  outen  de  kerridg,  her  paw's, 
what  he  done  give  her,  an'  she  'low  she 
did: 

"  '  Dissher  de  manshion  yuh  talk  so  much 
'bout,  sah  ? ' 


84  HE    KNEW    THE    MISTRESS. 

"  Mars  Rob't  talk  an'  talk,  but  we  culled 
folks  an't  heered  what  he  say.  Miss  Loulie 
walk  up  on  de  porch  an'  set  in  de  cheer  what 
Mars  Rob't's  man  fotch  er,  an'  she  'low  to 
Mars  Rob't,  she  did: 

"'Git  yer  niggers  togedder  an'  lemme  se  'em 
Hit  wouldn't  be  no  surprise  ef  dee  was  just 
lak  de  mansion.  Git  'em  togedder,  sah  !  ' 
An'  Miss  Loulie  reared  her  ha.id  lak  she  used 
ter  when  she  went  a-rampagui'  'roun'  de  ol' 
jedge's  place  ter  home. 

"  Den  Mars  Rob't  'low  ter  John,  his  man, 
'  John,  yuh  go  till  Jim  an'  forty  mo'  dee  mis 
sis  wants  ter  see  em.'  John  he  'low,  'yassir,' 
an'  run  off,  an'  bimeby  he  come  back  wid 
Jim  an'  a  leetle,  finicky  ol'  nigger  dat  walk 
wid  a  stick.  He  so  ol'  he  toofs  done  drap 
out,  an'  he  an't  got  no  sign  er  ha'r  on  he's 
haid.  Dee  come'  long  ter  de  steps,  kerchey- 
in'  ter  de  missis  dee  very  bes'. 

"  Missis  she  look  at  Mars  Rob't  an'  she 
'low :  '  Well,  sah,  whar  de  forty  mo'  yuh 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  85 

talk  'bout  ? '  Mars  Rob't  he  look  at  dem  tree 
mis'able  niggers  an'  he  'low,  as  cool  as  a 
chunk  of  butter  in  de  spring :  «  Dem's  all. 
Dar's  John,  meh  man,  an'  Jim  de  driver,  an' 
Forty  mo',  a  mis'able  oP  creeter  dat  an't  good 
for  nothin'  dat's  sartin,  'ceptin  hit's  buzzard's 
meat.  Dat  leetle  ole  one  is  Forty  mo." 

"Miss  Loulie  didn't  say  nuthin'  but  jess  got 
up  an'  went  into  de  house.  But  befo'she  went 
she  jess  look  at  Mars  Rob't,  an'  befo'  de 
good  Gawd  !  I  wouldn't  a  bin  dat  man  not  for 
nothing  not  if  he  is  white  an'  mahried  to  de 
richest  gall  in  de  county.  Kase,  you  all  see, 
we  done  know  Miss  Loulie." 


H  ]^o  'count  JViggcr, 


'ESS  sher  is  white  folks  dat  is 
white  folks  "  was  a  statement 
with  which  old  Rastus  always 
prefaced  his  stories.  ' '  I  'mem 
bers  well  how  tings  wus  in  ol' 
Mars'  time.  Dey  wus  ev'ryt'ing 
in  de  big  house  an'  in  de  kitchen  too,  but 
honey,  yo'  paid  for  yo'  vittles.  Work  yo'  ? 
Um-hum,  honey,  dont  talk. 

"  Dar  wus  ol'  Ira  what  used  toe  shuck  de 
co'ne  fer  de  mewls  an'  do  'bout  ginnerly. 
Br'er  Ira  he  go  toe  de  co'ne  house  an  he  shuck 
co'ne  nuff  ter  do  one  muel  —  an'  dat  warn't 
nuff  ter  do  Ira  heself  ef  hit  was  made  into 
pone — an'  den  Br'er  Ira  he  fall  sleep  in  de 
co'ne  shucks  an'  sleep  an'  sleep,  twel  twelve 

86 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  87 

o'clock  done  come  an'  de  mewls  is  brung  in, 
an'  Ira  still  sleep,  an'  dey  ant  no  co'ne  ter 
feed  em  wid. 

"Ol'  Mars  he  fool  'long  wid  Ira,  en  tell  him 
bout  shuckin'  er  dat  co'ne,  an'  he  tell  'im 
ev'y  day,  but  'taint  no  manner  er  use.  Dat 
nigger  done  git  so  sleepy  w'en  he  git  in  de 
co'ne  house,  dat  he  jes  nachully  falls  ter  sleep 
an'  furgits  all  'bout  dem  mewels  an'  dee  feed. 
Bimeby  ol'  Mars  done  git  tired  foolin'  long 
wid  Br'er  Ira,  an'  he  'low,  ol'  Mars  did : 

"  '  Look-a-heer,  you  onnery,  no  count  nig 
ger,  I  done  gwyne  tas'  you,  an'  ef  you  doan 
git  dat  tas'  done,  I  gwyne  whop  yo'  sho  I 

"  Ol'  Mars  he  go  toe  de  co'ne  house  shoo 
nuff,  an'  he  tas'  Br'er  Ira,  but  law  !  dat  doan 
do  no  manner  er  good,  kase  Ira  he  jus'  sleep, 
an'  de  co'ne  ant  gwyne  chuck  by  hitself. 
All  dat  gwyne  on  er  Br'er  Ira's  sorter  git 
ahead  er  ol'  Mars,  an'  he  'low  ter  dat  nig 
ger  : 

" '  Ef  yo'   cant  shuck  co'ne  you  kin    hoe 


88  A  NO  'COUNT  NIGGER. 

taters  I  gwyne  sold yer,'  an'  a  heap  mo'  Mars 
done  say  ter  Ira  what  ant  fitten  fer  no 
church  member  ter  splain  'long  arter  'im. 

"  Ol'  Mars  done  whop  Ira  twel  hit  nat- 
chully  ant  no  use,  an'  Mars  couldn't  sold 
him  kase  ev'ey  body  done  know  'bout  his 
owdacious  triflinness. 

"  Bless  de  Lawd,  Ira  hoe  taters  lak  he  shuck 
co'ne.  He  leave  dat  hoe  in  de  furrer  an'  go 
foolin'  'long  wid  de  galls  what  was  washin' 
cloes  at  de  spring. 

"  When  sundown  done  come,  an'  Mars  seed 
de  taters  an't  hoed,  he  sont  fer  Ira  an'  he 
'lowed,  ol'  mars  did  :  '  You  onnery  no  'count 
nigger  !  What  you  reckon  I  feeds  you  fer  ? 
You  ant  wuth  de  bread  you  eats.  I  ant 
gwyne  whop  you  no  mo,'  an'  I  ant  gwyne 
sold  you,  kase  you  ant  wuth  foolin'  nobody 
wid.  You  ant  no  use  on  top  side  dissher 
yearth  an'  I'm  done  gwyne  take  you  off  en 
hit.  I'm  done  gwyne  ter  bury  you !  You 
hear  dat,  nigger  ?  I'm  done  gwyne  bury 
you  'live  ! ' 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  89 

"  Lawdy,  Gawd  A — mighty !  Ef  you 
never  seed  a  skeered  nigger,  Ira  he  was  one, 
an'  he  begged  ol'  Mars  lak  a  dawg,  but  hit 
warn't  no  use.  No  use  'tall. 

"  Ol'  Mars  he  call  de  cyarpenter  an'  mek 
him  take  Ira's  size,  an'  tell  him  ter  mek  a 
strong  coffin  fer  dat  nigger  so's  he  couldn't 
bus'  loose  no  how.  When  de  cyarpenter 
done  mek  dat  coffin  dey  took  Ira  outen  de 
smoke  house  whar  dey  done  had  him  shot, 
kase  dey  was  afeered  he  would  take  toe  de 
swamp,  an'  bless  de  lawd !  Dee  nailed  'im  in 
de  box  an'  toted  hit  down  ter  de  graveyard. 

"  Ol'  Mars,  he  went  'long  ter  see  dey 
warn't  no  foolin',  an'  he  low  he  gwyne  see 
dat  no'  count'  nigger  put  down  deep,  Gentle 
men,  dat  nigger  he  beg — yas  sir,he  jis  reglarly 
preached  !  Ira  'he  low  :  '  Wah  !  Ol'  Mars, 
please  sah  dont  done  bury  poo'  Ira  sah ! ' 

"  Ol  Mars  he  'low :  '  Cyarry  'im  'long 
boys ! 

"  Ira  he  'low  :     '  Please  sah  whop  meh,  er 


go  A  NO  'COUNT  NIGGER. 

sol'  meh  down  de  ribber,  but  fer  Gawd  sake 
doan  put  meh  down  wid  de  yeath  worms  ! ' 

"  Ol'  Mars  he  low  :  '  Cyarry  Mm  long  boys.' 

"  '  Wah  !  Please  Mars  !  I  shuck  all  de  co'ne, 
I  done  shuck  all  dat  co'ne  an'  hoe  de  taters 
an'  de  cotton  sah,  ef  you  please  doan  put 
meh  underneaf  de  groun  '  ! ' 

"  Ol  Mars  !  he  sorter  laff  '  an  '  he  *  low  : 
'Cyarry  'im  long  boys.' 

"  Ira  he  done  quit  beggin  an'  took  ter 
hollerin,  an'  Gentlemen,  you  could  year  dat 
nigger  way  down  ter  de  crick,  same's  he  done 
bin  callin  horgs! 

"  When  dee  gits  ter  de  graveyard  ol'  Mars 
low  :  Is  yuh  got  nuffin  ter  say,  Ira,  befo ' 
yuh  is  buried  ! ' 

"  Ira  he  lowed  ;  '  Yassir,  boss,  sah,  Ef 
yuh  please  sah,  doan  bury  meh  dis  time.  Ef 
yuh  doan  do  hit  I  done  shuck  all  dat  co'ne  an' 
hoe  all  dem  taters  long  fore  sundown  !  'Fore 
de  Lawd  I  will! ' 

"  Mars  he  'low  ;   '  ef  you  does  all  dat  I  lets 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  9! 

yuh  off  dis  time,  but  nex'  time  yuh  not  done 
yuh  tas'  I  bury  yuh  shoo.  Let  'im  out 
boys.' 

"  De  cyarpenter  he  tuck  off  de  lid  an  de 
way  dat  nigger  he  pop  outen  dat  box  was  a 
sin  !  An'  gentlemen,  Br'er  Ira  he  run  ter 
dat  co'ne  house  and  had  all  that  co'nes  shuck 
ed  'long  'fo'  hit  was  night.  Ol'  Mars  he  ant 
done  bury  Ira  yit,  kase  he  done  die  hese'f  an' 
dat  nigger's  a  settin  here  yit. 


Big  Ben. 

¥¥** 

'EN  dar  was  dat  no  count'  nigger, 
big  Ben,"  observed  old  Rastus 
polishing  the  bowl  of  the  silver 
spoon  he  was  cleaning,  until  his 
own  visage,  black,  seamed  and 
wrinkled,  was  reflected  therein. 
"  He  done  mek  ol'  Mars  mighty  heap  trouble 
in  he  time.  Ol'  Mars  he  wurn't  what  we  all 
call'  nigger  driver,  kase  he  nebber  driv'  he 
niggers,  but  he  gwyne  mek  'em  wuk  ef  de 
good  Gawd  spar'  'im. 

"  But  dat  Ben  was  triflin'  sho  nuff,  an'  when 
ol'  Marsbrung  'im  frum  de  swamp  in  cotton 
pickin'  time  an'  sot  'im  a  workin'  in  de  fiel,' 
Ben  he  'low  he  not  gwyne  ter  sweat  hese'f 
toe  def  fer  no  white  buckra,  'ceptin'  he  slip 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  93 

up.  An  when  hit  rain  an'  rain  an'  spile  de 
cotton  crop,  Ben  he  laff  an'  'low  ter  de  yether 
han's  : 

"  '  More  rain,  more  res' ;  all  fair  weather 
a'nt  de  bes.' 

"  Ol'  Mars  he  done  slip  up  on  Ben  an'  year 
'im  a-talkin'  dat-erway,  an'  ol'  Mars  he  low 
right  quick,  he  did  : 

"  'You  black  rascal !  What  dat  yuh  say, 
sah  ? ' 

"  Ben  roll  he  eyes  an'  look  skeered,  but 
Satan  done  tole  'im  what  ter  say,  an'  he  low 
ter  ol'  Mars,  Ben  did. 

"  'More  rain,  massa,  more  de  grass  grow, 
sah.' 

"  Ol  Mars  he  laff,  kase  he  done  know  Ben 
wus  a-prevericatin,'  but  twarn't  long  befo'  de 
white  folks  kotch  up  wid  dat  nigger.  Ben  he 
toted  an'  toted.  He  toted  meat  from  de 
smoke  house  an'  hid  it  in  de  swamp  an'  he 
toted  meal  an  put  hit  dar,  too. 

"  Ol'  Mars  he  keep  he  eye   on  'im,  but  he 


94  BIG    BEN. 

a'nt  say  nothin'  yit.  Den  Ben  he  go  ter  de 
kitchen  an'  see  Jinny,  de  dinin'  room  gall, 
an'  he  sorter  come  'roun'  Jinny,  he  did,  an' 
'low  he  gwyne  marry  'er,  an'  Jinny  tote  'im 
vittles  frum  de  kitchen  twel  one  day  Missus 
she  kotch  dat  'ooman. 

"  De  cook  she  bile  a  ham  lak  ol'  Missus 
tole  her  an'  sot  hit  out  ter  cool,  an'  Jinny 
see  dat  ham,  an'  'low  she  gwyne  tote  hit  ter 
Ben  sho's  she  bawn. 

"  When  Jinny  was  a  gwyne  thoo  the  pas 
sage  wid  dat  ham  she  hear  ol'  Miss  a-comin' 
She  knowed  hit  wus  ol'  Miss,  kase  she  hear 
her  silk  frock  a  rustlin',  an'  she  hide  dat  ham 
underneath  her  coat,  but  ol'  Miss  done  see 
'er  do  hit  an'  give  'er  fifty  lashes. 

"  Den  Jinny  she  got  no  mo'  use  fer  Ben, 
an'  wouldn't  fool  'long  wid  'im  no  mo,'  an' 
when  Ben  done  toted  all  he  could  git  he 
slipped  off  ter  de  swamp,  an  ol'  Mars  never 
did  know  whar  he  went. 

"When    ol'    Mars   fin'    out  dat  Ben  done 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  95 

gone  he  ax  Jinny  whar  abouts  dat  nigger  ? 
but  Jinny  'low  she  don't  know  nothin'  'tall 
'bout  'im  no  how.  Mars  he  whop  'er  but  she 
don't  know  whar  he  gone,  'ceptin'  he  wid  de 
rations  he  done  hid  in  de  swamp.  Den 
Jinny  she  tell  'bout  dem  rations  dat  Ben  steal 
an'  tote  off  ter  de  swamp. 

"  Nobody  done  tole  Ben  dat  Jinny  tell  on 
him,  but  he  know  hit  sartin,  kase  he  slip  up 
to  de  quarter  an'  lay  'round  twel  he  git  de 
chance  den  he  steal  Jinny's  boy  what  she 
had  befo'  she  done  come  ter  de  plantation. 
He  was  a  purty  leetle  yaller  boy  'bout  so 
high,  an'  young  Miss,  she'  keep  'im  ter  fotch 
an  tote  fer  her,  an'  he  lay  'roun'  de  big 
house  twel  he  git  as  fat  an'  sassy  as  a  coon 
in  'simmon  time. 

"  When  Jinny  miss  de  boy  an'  couldn't  fin' 
'im  she  knowed  Ben  done  got  'im,  an'  she  took 
ter  rampin',  'roun'  'rageously,  an' young  Miss 
she  took  on  'most  as  bad  as  Jinny  she-self. 

"  Ol'  Mars  he  got  out  de  houn's,   an'  de 


g  BIG    BEN. 

yether  white  mens  dey  hunted  an'  dey 
hunted,  but  dey  a'nt  find  nuthin,'  an'  Ben 
he  jis'  lay  low  twel  de  millyons  was  ripe  in  de 
fiel'.  Den  we  all  knowed  Br'er  Ben  warn't 
far  kase  de  han's  done  seed  his  tracks  in 
de  patch,  but  none  er  dem  niggers  done  tole 
ol'  Mars. 

"  A'ter  while  when  de  fodder  was  done 
pulled  an'  de  cone  shucked,  an'  all  de  mill 
yons  done  eat  up,  ol'  Mars  done  turn  out  de 
horgs  in  de  fiel.'  Dat  ar  wuz  zackly  what 
Br'er  Ben  was  countin'  on,  kase  den  he  jis 
slip  out  inter  de  cone  patch  any  night  an' 
catch  'im  a  fat  shoat  an'  eat  barbecue  twel 
he  don't  want  no  mo.' 

"  Bimeby  de  horgs  git  ter  runin'  short, 
an'  ol'  Mars  he  took  ter  countin'  'em  an' fin' 
dem  missin',  an'  den  ol'  Mars'  he  low,  he  did. 
4  Hits  dat  rascal  Ben.  I  done  seed  his  tracks 
in  de  fiel,'  an'  I  gwyne  kotch  'im  ef  hit  takes 
every  houn  in  dis-sher  county.' 

"  Den  ol'  Mars  he  sont  down  ter  C'lumby 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  97 

county,  an'  he  sont  ter  Lincoln  county  fer  de 
houns'  an'  dey  was  all  brung  down  ter  de 
plantation,  an'  sich  a  kiyiin  uv  houn's  yo« 
never  heered  in  all  yer  bawn  days. 

"  But  Lawd  bless  yo'  soul,  hit  warn't  no 
manner  er  use.  All  de  buckra  men  an'  all 
de  houn's  never  did  kotch  Br'er  Ben.  He 
jess  lay  low  an'  say  nuthin.' 

"  A'ter  while  when  de  horgs  was  brung  in 
an'  de  taters  was  done  banked  an'  ev'yti'ng 
was  fixed,  hit  jess  sot  in  an'  freeze  an'  freeze 
an'  we-uns  had  de  bigges'  horg  killin'  dat  eber 
was  in  dat  county  er  de  hull  state  er  Georgy. 

"Ol  Mars  he  couldn't  kotch  Br'er  Ben,  an' 
de  houn's  warn't  no  manner  er  count,  but 
people,  de  fros"  an  de  snow  hit  took  'im. 

"  One  mawnin'  'fore  day  ol'  Jocks,  he  dat 
druv  ol'  Miss,  yeared  a  knockin'  an'  a  knockin' 
at  he  doo,'  but  Jocko  he  neber  let  on  lak  he 
done  yet,  kase  he  a-feered  hit  waz  Ku-Klux. 
Dee  knock  an'  dee  knock,  an'  bimeby  dee 
call,  an'  den  Jocko  'low  ter  he-se'f :  "Dat  ar's 
Br'er  Ben,  shor's  Ise  bawn. 


98  BIG    BEN. 

"  Jacko  he  wait  twel  he  'ere  de  call  again, 
'den  he  git  up  an'  crack  de  doo'  an,  he  'low : 
4  Dat  yo'  Br'er  Ben  ? '  an'  Br'er  Ben  .he  'low  : 
'  Dissher's  Ben,  Jocko,'  an'  when  Jocko  crack 
de  doo,'  he  slip  in  an'  'low  ter  Jacko,  he  did: 

"  '  I  pow'ful  hongry,  Br'er  Jocko,  I  a'nt  eat 
nothin'  much  since  hit  done  friz.  Can't  yo' 
gib  meh  some  brade  ? ' 

"  Jocko  he  unkiver  de  ash  cake  an  give 
hit  ter  Br'er  Ben,  den  he  'low,  Jocko  did : 
'Brer  Ben,  how  come  de  houn's  ant  kotch 
yo'  ? '  Br'er  Ben  he  'low  : 

"  '  Kase  dey  never  come  whar  I  was,  an'  dey 
never  come  whar  I  was  kase  dey  couldn't  git 
dar  —  yah  !  yah  ! ' 

"  Ben  he  eat  de  ash  cake,  an  'long  'fore 
day  he  quit  de  cabin,  but  ol'  Jocko  was  too 
skeered  toe  look  which  erway  he  went.  In 
de  mawnin'  ol'  Jocko  study  'bout  hit  an'bimeby 
he  tole  ol'  Mars  'bout  Br'er  Ben,  an,  ol'  Mars 
'low  ter  Jocko,  he  did. 

"  '  Jacko,  ef  dat  nigger  come  back  an'   yo' 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  99 

lets  meh  know  he  dar  so's  I  kotch  'im,  I 
gwyne  gib  yo'  freedom  shooly,' 

"  Jacko  he  ol'  nigger,  all  cripple  an'  drawed 
up  wid  de  misery  in  de  jints,  but  jess  de  same 
he  lak  ter  go  free  fore  he  die,  an'  he  promise 
ol'  Mars  he  let  'im  know. 

"  Ol'  Mars  waited  an'  waited,  twel  de  dark 
er  de  moon,  an'  one  mawnin'  jess  befo'  day, 
he  yer  ol'  Jacko  'low  loud  as  he  can  holler, 
jess  de  same's  he  a  callin  horgs : 

"  '  Come  in  Br'er  Ben,  an  git  de  ash  cake. 
Hits  done  cook  nice  an  brown  fer  suh,  an' 
is  a-waitin',  an'  Ben  he  'low: 

"  '  Shet  yer  big  mouf,  Jacko,  white  folks 
done  yere  yuh  ! 

"  '  White  folks  a'nt  gwyne  yere,  Br'er  Ben. 
White  folks  deep  down  in  de  feather  bed. 
Come  in,  I  tells  yer,  Br'er  Ben,  an'  git 
de  ash  cake  'fo'  yuh  goes  back  ter  de  swamp. 

"  Br'er  Ben  went  in,  an'  bimeby  ol'  Mars 
slip  up  on  'im  an'  kotch  im,  an'  'fore  mawnin' 
Ben  he  done  locked  up  in  de  cone  house. 


100  BIG    BEN. 

"  Did  Jocko  git  he  freedom  ?  Bress  Gawd  ! 
No,  chile.  Ol'  Mars  he  took  Br'er  Ben  an 
ol'  Jocko  on  de  log  boat  down  de  river  an' 
sold  em  to  a  nigger  driver  fer  de  sugar  fiel's. 

"  A'ter  while  Jinny's  boy  he  come  a-crawl- 
in'  back.  He  was  a  crawlin'  kase  he  couldn't 
walk,  he  feet  done  friz  up  toe  he  knees,  whar 
he'd  bin  a-sleepin'  out  in  de  fros'  an'  de  cold, 
an'  bless  de  good  Lawd,  he  done  crawl  twel 
dis  day ! " 


Gourds  of  fat, 


NEVER  is  furgit  dat  ol'  nigger, 
Jocko,"  observed  Rastus,  watch 
ing  with  approving  eye,  the 
cook  basting  a  brace  of  fat 
fowls  "put  de  gravy  on  'em 
plenty,  an'doan'  spar  de  butter," 
parenthetically.  "  He  was  de  bigges  fool 
nigger  on  de  plantation.  Yassir,  he  was  sho' 
a  'stracted  nigger.  Dissher  de  way  ol'  Mars 
come  ter  have  dem  Af'ican  niggers.  One 
day  we  all  seed  a  boat  come  a  wallerin'  down 
de  ribber,  an'  de  chillun  flew  ter  de  big 
house  an'  tole  de  white  folks  hit  was  a-comin'. 
Ol'  Mars  he  took  he  spy  glass  what  he  hab 
toe  set  in  de  shade  an'  watch  dem  niggers 
workin'  way  down  in  de  cotton  patch,  an'  he 


102  TWO    GOURDS    OF    FAT. 

walk  down  ter  de  laudin'  ter  see  de  boat  a- 
comin.  Ol'  Mars  Jeems  Jones  was  a  eatin' 
break'fus'  at  de  big  house,  an'  he  went  'long 
wid  Mars  toe  de  ribber  too. 

"Ol'  Mars  put  de  glass  toe  he  eye  an' 
bimeby  he  'low:  'Hit's  Sunday  School  Sam,' 
an'  I  low,  'he  got  somefin  on  board,'  an  ol' 
Mars  he  laff  fit  ter  kill  hese'f  an'  Mars  Jeems 
he  laff  too. 

"  But  Lawdy  Gawd  !  I  ant  laff  nun,  kase  I 
know  dat  trader  sho  nuff,  an'  he  was  wusser'n 
enny  what  trapsed  up  an'  down  de  hull  ribber. 

"  Den  de  news  spread  on  dat  plantation 
dat  Mars  Sunday  School  Sam  was  a  comin', 
an'I  'low  dee  was  skeered  niggers  dat  day, 
kase  dee  didn't  know  what  ol'  Mars  was  a- 
gwyne  do  nohow. 

"  Dat  boat  stop  an'  Mars  an'  Mars  Jeems 
dee  git  on  board,  an'  dee  stay  an'  stay,  an' 
seem  lak  dee  was  a-comin'  back,  when 
reckly  dee  comes  a  rowin'  back,  wid  three 
yether  niggers,  de  daddy  an'  de  two  sons, 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  103 

an'  bless  Gawd,  dem  culled  pussons  ant 
had  no  mo'  cloes  on  dem  'n  de  day  dee  was 
bawn  inter  dissher  worF  !  Ol'  Mars  he  brung 
'em  up  ter  de  quarters,  an'de  'oomen  dee  com 
mence  ter  cut  an  sew,  an'  bimeby  dee  had 
clo'es  a  plenty  fer  dem  new  niggers,  what  was 
locked  up  in  de  smoke  house  twel  dee  git 
dressed  same's  folks.  Den  when  de  'oomen 
git  de  clo'es  make  Mars  'low  ter  de  men  ter 
'fotch  em  ter  de  smoke  house  an'  put  'em  on 
dem  folks.' 

"  Kase  yer  see,  honey,  dee  was  dem  kine 
er  Af'can  niggers  what  did'nt  know  what 
clo'es  was.  And  Lawdy  Gawd,  Chillun,  as  fas' 
as  de  men  put  de  good  new  homespun  clo'es, 
on  dem  niggers,  dee  t'ar  em  off  er  em,  twel 
dee  git  plumb  tired  a-tearin'  em.  A'ter 
while  dee  git  so  dee  leave  de  clo'es  on,  an' 
bimeby  dee  larn  talk  leetle  bit  lak  folks,  an' 
den  ol'  Mars  he  'low  ter  de  overseer  he  done 
hit. 

"Dee  do  mighty  well,  a  tenden  de  horgs 


104  TWO    GOURDS    OF    FAT. 

'n'  de  sheep,  an'  a  haulin'  an'  a  cuttin'  wood 
V  sich,  'n'  de  git  ter  talk  right  well.  Ol' 
Jocko  he  min'  de  sheep,  an'  bimeby  dem 
sheep  commence  ter  come  a  missin'.  A  lamb 
hit  gone,  an'  den  a  big  sheep  hit  gone,  den 
a  shoat  an'  a  yearlin'.  Ol'  Mars  he  watch, 
an'  de  overseer  he  watch,  but  dee  ant  seed 
nobody  steal  dem  critters  yit,  kase  whilst  dee 
watchin'dem  animals  all  stay  whar  dee  b'long. 

"  Den  one  day  Missis  go  ter  de  smoke 
house  an'  fin'  whar  some  nigger  done  burrow 
under  de  wall  an'  steal  de  rations  outen  dar. 
Dar  was  hams  a-missin  an'  sides  er  meat,  an' 
gourds  er  fat,  an'  meal  twel  dar  warnt  no 
en,'  an'  den  ol'  Mars  'low  he  done  tired  er 
dat  foolishness  an'  he  gwyne  fin'  out  who 
dat  stealin',  an'  when  he  cotch  up  wid  'em 
he  gwyne  sol'  em  ter  de  fust  trader  come 
erlong. 

"  An  Mars  he  do  lak  he  say.  Dar  was  ol' 
Jocks,  dat  ol'  Af'can  an'  he  too  sons,  an'  Ben 
what  I  done  tole  yer  bout.  Dee  was  all  dar 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  105 

a-waitin'  an'  ol'  Mars  he  'low  ter  de  driver, 
he  did  : 

"  '  Begin  wid  Peter,'  dat  was  Jocko's  big- 

ges'  son,  an'  de  driver  did  datter  way  lak  ol' 

Mars  tell  'im.    He  take  dat  Pete,  an'  he  strip 

( 'im  an  tie  'im  ter  de  pos'  an'  den  de  driver 

he  'low  : 

"  'Who  dat  bin  a  stealin'  dem  tings,'  an' 
cut  im  wid  de  rawhide.  Pete  he  jump  lak  a 
ol'  hen  in  hot  ashes,  an'  he  'low  :  '  I  dunno, 
please  Mars,  an'  ol'  Jocko  he  'low,  a  dancin' 
roun'  wusser'n  Pete  hese'f  ;  '  Sticky  ter  dat, 
son  !  sticky  ter  dat,  son  !  ' 

"  Dee  done  whop  Pete,  an  dee  whop  Bob, 
an'  dee  ant  say  nuthin'  bout  de  stealin'  'tall 
'ceptin  '  I  dunno,  Mars,'  an'  den  dee  tuk  ol1 
Jocko  hese'f. 

"  Well,  sah,  w'en  dee  tuk  hoi'  er  dat  ol' 
nigger  ter  tie  'im  he  commenced  ter  preach, 
ah'  Lawd,  Gawd-Amighty  !  Yuh  cud  a-done 
heed  'im  clean  ter  de  settlement.  Yassir,  he 
preached  !  '  Oh  Mars !  Please  sah,  doan 


106  TWO    GOURDS    OF    FAT. 

whop  Jocko,'  he  'low,  an'  ol'  Mars  he  'low  his 
se'f :  '  Who  steal  dem  rations  an'  dem  crit 
ters,  yuh  ol'  tief  ? ' 

"  Jocko  he  'low  :  '  Oh  Mars,  please  sah,  I 
dunno'  sah  !  ' 

"  Den  de  driver  lay  hit  on  ol'  Jocko  "Cush- 
wou!'  De  whip  hit  'im,  an'  suh,  he  preach 
louder  yit,  an'  time  dee  done  hit  'im  nother 
time  dat  ol'  nigger  bleg'  ter  tell  all  he  done 
know. 

"  Cushwou  !  de  whip  say,  an'  ol'  Jocko  he 
'low  '  Wah,  masser !  Look  down  in  de  tater 
hole  ! '  Cushwou  !  '  Yuh  fine  two  hams  er 
meat  an' two  gourds  er  fat,'  Cushwou  !  '  Wah' 
masser !  Look  down  in  de  ol'  dry  well  ! '  Cush 
wou  I  '  Yuh  fin  one  bag  er  meal  an'  all  dem 
sheep  ! '  An'  bles  Gawd,  ev'ry  time  dee  pop  ol' 
Jocko  he  tell  whar  dee  done  put  dat  rations, 
twel  he  done  tole  all  he  knowed  bout  hit,  an' 
Pete  an'  Bob  'lowed,  'ef  dee  knowed  dee  paw 
gwyne  tell  dee  tell  deyse'f  'fore  dee  git  a  whop- 
pin'  lak  dat  fur  nuthin'. 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  107 

"  Den  de  driver  he  put  de  mule  in  de  cyart 
an'  drub  ter  de  tater  hole,  an'  git  dem  hams 
er  meat,  an'  dem  gourds  er  fat,  an'  den  he 
went  ter  de  ol'  dry  well  an'  git  de  meal  an' 
de  sheep  what  was  done_  stowed  dar,  an' gen 
tlemen,  when  he  come  back  he  done  had  de 
cyart  loaded  full  ! 

"  No,  honey,  Mars  an't  done  keep  dem 
niggers.  A'ter  de  horg  killin'  an'  de  chris'- 
mus  was  ober  Mars  he  tek  dem  an'  some 
yether  chillun  what  he  done  tek  a  unlike  ter, 
an'  sol'  'em  ter  a  trader  what  come  erlong, 
kase  yer  see,  ol'  Mars  couldn't  brek  em  from 
stealin'  nohow." 


Gpbiram's  Bold  Strobe* 

¥¥¥¥ 

STHER  was  busy  at  the  washtub, 
but  she  kept  a  vigilant  eye  upon 
the  cabin  door,  so  that  Ephriam, 
her  better  half,  could  not  slip 
away  without  being  seen  and  in 
tercepted  by  her.  Esther  was  not 
a  tyrant,  but  she  ruled  the  trifling  little  old 
man  with  a  rigor  little  to  his  liking,  and  he 
respected  as  well  as  feared  her,  mightily. 

Eph  knew  that  Esther's  eye  was  upon  the 
door,  so  slipping  from  the  rear  of  the  cabin, 
he  kept  in  the  shadow,  hoping  to  reach  the 
neck  of  the  woods  before  being  discovered 
and  commanded  to  return. 

But  just    as  the  goal  was  almost  reached 
and  Eph  was  about  to  plunge  into  the  shadow 
108 


SOUTHERN  ECHOES.  1 09 

of  the  tall  trees,  a.  voice  that  always  made 
his  eyes  bulge  and  his  wool  creep  upon  his 
tough  old  pate,  reached  his  ear. 

"  Yuh  Eph,  sah,  whar  dat  yer  gwyne  ? 
Foolin'  'bout  in  dem  woods  an'  meh  a-wash- 
in'  mehse'f  toe-deff  ovah  de  wash-tub  !  Come 
back  heah,  sah,  an'  shove  de  bresh  up  toe 
dissher  pot  !  " 

And  Eph's  shrill  treble  answered  back : 
"  Jess  a-gwyne  down  by  de  branch,  a  leetle. 
Seed  a  mighty  big  buck  rabbit  dar  two  maw- 
nin's,  an'  mebbe  ef  yer  maw  comes,  she'd  lak 
some  stew." 

The  allusion  to  her  mother  mollified  Es 
ther,  as  Eph  counted  upon  its  doing,  and  as 
the  good  soul  said  no  more  he  limped  hastily 
into  the  thicket. 

"  Drub-drub,"  went  the  washboard,  as 
Esther  patiently  toiled  away  the  sunny  mo 
ments,  and  Eph  roamed  in  well  contented 
leisure  through  the  pleasant  greenery  of  the 
summer  woods.  Emerging  near  the  spring, 


110  EPHIRAM  S  BOLD  STROKE. 

Eph  crept  cautiously  forward,  and  surely 
enough,  tripping  daintily  about  among  the 
lush  grasses  he  discovered  a  fine  grey  jack- 
rabbit.  In  an  instant  the  gun  went  up,  the 
little  oily  eye  twinkled  viciously  at  the  sight, 
there  was  a  sharp  report,  and  when  the  film 
of  blue  smoke  melted,  Eph  was  joyfully  bag 
ging  his  wooly  prize. 

Shouldering  his  ancient  single  barelled 
weapon  the  old  fellow  strode  on,  humming 
contentedly,  a  camp-meeting  hymn,  until  he 
arrived  at  a  small  log  cabin  set  in  the  middle 
of  a  tiny  clearing  deep  in  the  woods.  Strad 
dling  the  rail  fence  he  went  boldly  up  to  the 
rear  door  of  a  small  hut,  and  entered  as 
though  sure  of  his  welcome,  or  as  one  whose 
visits  would  be  taken  as  a  matter  of  course- 
Sitting  in  the  sunshine,  wrapping  her  hair 
which  stood  in  great  wiry  masses  about  her 
face,  was  the  mistress  of  the  cabin,  a  big, 
yellow  woman  with  great  prominent  white 
teeth  and  big  bold  eyes. 


SOUTHERN  ECHOES.  Ill 

"What  dat  yuh  doin'  honey?"  Eph 
asked  familiarly,  appropriating  the  only 
other  hide  bottomed  chair  the  room  con 
tained. 

"Who  dat  yuh  call  'honey?'  she  de 
manded,  as  though  not  well  pleased. 

"  Pooty  yaller  'ooman,  lak  yuh,"  Eph 
answered  with  ready  gallantry. 

The  woman  laughed,  and  leaning  forward 
applied  a  smart  slap  on  the  old  man's  with 
ered  jaw.  "  Tek  dat-ar,  yuh  ol'  'ceitful  pos- 
um  !  "  she  observed  spitefully. 

"  If  I'd  a-knowed  yuh  was  gwyne  pop  meh 
jaw,"  observed  Eph  much  aggrieved,  "I 
wouldn't  a  brought  yuh  dis-sher,"  and  he 
drew  from  his  bag  the  limp  jack  rabbit  and 
laid  it  across  her  lap.  The  woman  fondled 
the  soft  ears  of  the  creature,  looking 
wickedly  at  its  donor  from  the  corner  of  her 
eye.  "  Huk-kum,"  she  asked  severely,"  huk- 
kum  yuh  an't  give  hit  ter  dat  brown-skin  gall 
down  dar  in  de  holler?  " 


ii2  EPHIRAM'S  BOLD  STROKE. 

Eph  pricked  up  his  ears,  simulating  inno 
cence  and  surprise.  "Who  dat  'low  'bout 
no  brown-skin  gall  ?  Don't  know  nuthin' 
'tall  bout  her,  myse'f." 

"Umhuh!  Dat '11  do  for  yuh  ter  say  in 
meeting,"  gibingly. 

Then  Eph  drew  his  call  to  an  abrupt  close, 
starting  homeward  by  a  short  cut  through 
the  wood.  The  woman's  displeasure  made  a 
very  transient  impression  upon  him,  for  as 
he  slouched  along  through  the  delicmos  green 
ery,  he  essayed  to  sing  in  a  curious  cracked 
falsetto,  that  seemed  at  times  to  gurgle  out 
in  lumps,  then  to  trickle  forth  in  a  thready 
steam,  making  altogether  a  rather  queer 
sounding  performance  indeed.  The  hymn 
tune  now  gave  precedence  to  a  love  ditty, 
which  the  old  man  warbled  with  much  un 
ction 

"I  tek  meh  true-lub  by  de  han' 
An*  turn  her  roun  'an*  roun' 
I  tek  her  toe  de  sugar  tree 
An'  shake  de  sugar  down  ! 
An'  shake  de  sugar  down." 


SOUTHERN  ECHOES.  113 

The  last  line  was  repeated  with  many  shakes 
and  quavers  and  trills  of  the  queer  old 
voice,  spinning  the  final  word  through  a 
series  of  notes  both  original  and  unique. 
Coming  into  another  clearing  where  the 
meeting  house  stood,  the  old  fellow  paused 
abrutly  and  with  a  claw-like  hand  curled 
behind  his  ear,  stood  listening  intently. 
Surely  some  one  was  in  the  building,  pos 
sibly  a  number  of  persons,  and  thinking  he 
might  as  well  inform  himself  of  what  was 
going  on,  without  himself  being  seen,  if  pos 
sible,  he  crept  cautiously  up  to  the  rear  of 
the  log  building,  and  dropping  on  his  knees, 
applied  his  eye  to  a  chink  in  the  wall,  from 
which  coign  of  vantage  could  be  seen  quite 
plainly  the  whole  interior  of  the  church. 
The  door  stood  ajar,  letting  in  a  thin  steam 
of  sunshine,  and  in  the  cool  shady  dimness, 
Eph  recognized  a  prominent  and  powerful 
preacher  of  his  own  race,  standing  on  the 
floor,  in  the  act  of  rehearsing  his  sermon 
for  the  coming  Sunday. 


ii4  EPHIRAM'S  BOLD  STROKE. 

The  preacher,  a  big,  glossy  black  negro, 
but  with  much  power  and  homely  eloquence 
and  a  through  knowledge  of  his  subject,  was 
just  rounding  off  an  elaborate  period  as  Eph 
applied  his  eye  to  the  chink  and  to  illustrate 
his  point,  the  preacher  continued,  after  a 
short  impressive  pause : 

"Now  dar's  Br'er  Jones.  He  sets  in  de 
'  Amen'  conder  same's  a  'coon  in  a  holler 
stump,  an  many  'nother  nigger  'lows  'Amen' 
as  strong  as  he  do.  But  jess  de  same  he 
gwyne  rob  hen  roost  an'  tater-bank  befo'  he 
gits  home  ter-night.  Den  dar  sets  Sis' 
Pheby,"  pointing  an  accusing  finger  into  the 
dim  recesses  of  the  empty  benches,  "  To  be 
sho  she's  a  big  chu'ch  member,  but  ant  she 
gwyne  here  an'  a  gwyne  dar,  a-totin'  of 
tales  an'  a  makin'  a  quar'l  betwix  dissher 
man  an'  he  wife,  an'  a  stirrin'  up  of  a  mess 
de  whole  week  ? " 

"  Um-hum  !  "  ejaculated  Eph  with  unctuous 
approval, "  give  hit  toe  dem  sinners  Br'er 
Jackson ! " 


SOUTHERN  ECHOES.  115 

"  Den,"  continued  the  preacher,  all  uncon 
scious  of  an  approving  auditor,  "  Den  dars 
dat  Deacon  Gibbs,  a  settin'  right  dar 
amongst  yer,  an'  ef  de  good  Lawd  was  ter 
come  down  dissher  minit  an  look  in  dat  nig 
ger's  britches  pocket,  he'd  find  dem  bones 
what  de  deacon  loves  ter  shake  better'n  he 
love  de  blessed  light.  Yas !  Br'er'n  an' 
sisters,  dice  is  Deacon  Gibbses  besettin' 
sin." 

Eph  smothered  a  chuckle  of  amused  ap 
proval,  and  as  the  preacher  continued  to 
score  one  after  another  of  the  prominent 
members  of  the  congregation,  twisted  himself 
with  many  grotesque  postures  of  suppressed 
mirth.  But  suddenly  his  grin  vanished,  he 
hitched  up  closer  to  the  crack  in  the  wall,  his 
jaw  dropped  and  his  countenance  took  an 
expression  of  strained  intensity  of  interest. 
The  preacher's  voice  had  sunk  to  a  less  im 
pressive  and  accusing  key,  but  his  remarks 
were  of  burning  interest  to  the  old  man,  for 
he  himself  was  the  subject. 


n6  EPHIRAM'S  BOLD  STROKE. 

"  Another  one  of  dem  lambs  in  sheep's 
cloding,"  continued  the  preacher,  "is  Br'er 
Ephr'm  Washin'ton.  He  run  here  toe  dissher 
'ooman  an'  dar  toe  see  dat-ar  'ooman  an' 
yander  ter  see  dat  gal,  twel  he  an't  got  no 
time  'tall  toe  work  for  he  own  wife,  Esther, 
an'  I  tell  you  all,  sis'  Esther  is  a  mighty 
fine  'ooman  an'  sister  in  de  church.  Dat 
she  is !  " 

Eph  had  heard  sufficient.  His  interested 
amusement  in  the  discourse  had  evaporated, 
and  shouldering  his  old  gun  he  crept  silently 
and  noislessly  away  from  the  church  into  the 
wood.  By  a  short  cut  he  soon  reached  his 
own  cabin,  and  taking  Esther  aside,  told  her 
in  part,  the  sermon  he  overheard. 

"  He  'low,"  said  the  wily  Eph,  "  right  out 
in  meetin',  dat  yo'  leads  yo'  poo'  oP  husban' 
a  dawg's  life,  but,"  noting  a  ominous  change 
on  Esther's  face,  "  I  spec  dat  some  sis' 
Phoeb's  lies  what  he  done  hear." 

Esther   was   indignant    and    expressed    a 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  117 

determination  to  tell  the  preacher  "  what 
was  what  "  when  she  once  "  laid  eyes  on 
him,"  but  Eph  offered  eager  counsel. 

"  When  he  git  here,"  advised  he,  "  we 
gwyne  draw  dat  'simmon  beer  an'  set  'im 
down  ter  dat  rabbit  stew  an'  roas'  tater  what 
you  savin'  fer  yo'  maw,  an'  den  we  gwyne 
kotch  some  er  dem  fat  chickens  what  flounc 
ing  round  in  dat  co'n  patch,  fer  he's  break'fas' 
an'  when  he  git  ter  de  chu'ch,  I  boun'  he  done 
furgit  all  about  how  yo'  is  done  lak  yo' 
oughten  ter." 

Eph's  advice  prevailed.  The  preacher 
came  and  was  so  graciously  received  and 
hospitably  entertained  that  he  put  off  other 
calls  until  the  morrow.  Esther's  cracked 
pitcher  was  drawn  full  of  foamy  'simmon 
beer,  a  capacious  hide  seated  rocker  was 
placed  for  him  beneath  the  shade  of  the 
flowering  peach  trees,  and  he  abandoned  him 
self  to  rest  and  pleasant  anticipations  of  the 
pleasures  in  store. 


n8  EPHIRAM'S  BOLD  STROKE. 

While  the  good  man  rested,  Eph  let  no 
grass  grow  beneath  his  rheumatic  old  feet. 
Drawing  Esther  into  the  cabin,  he  whispered: 
"  I  done  git  dat  jack  rabbit  dis  mawnin,  an' 
got  him  a-coolin'  down  at  de  spring.  I  gwyne 
git  'im  fer  dat  stew." 

Esther  nodded  approving  assent  and  slip 
ping  through  the  rear  exit,  Eph  was  soon 
again  gliding  through  the  shadowy  spring 
woods.  Making  a  detour  he  came  out  be 
hind  the  cabin  where  he  had  visited  earlier 
in  the  day,  and  where  he  had  left  the  spoil  of 
his  marksmanship.  As  he  had  hoped,  all 
about  the  cabin  was  silent,  and  to  Eph's 
trained  eye,  the  indications  about  the  clear 
ing  betokened  absence  of  the  inmates  of  the 
place.  But  to  guard  against  surprises  and 
make  assurance  doubly  sure  the  old  fellow 
applied  his  eye  to  the  hole  near  the  door  fas 
tening  and  shook  the  door,  calling  softly: 
"  M'linda  !  Oh,  M'linda  !  " 

A  very  lean  yellow  cat  came  through  the 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  Ii<) 

cat-hole  beneath  the  door,  blinking  soft  yel 
low  eyes,  and  fawning  around  the  old  man's 
feet. 

"  Ump  !  "  and  with  a  stealthy  glide,  Eph, 
left  the  door  and  was  peering  anxiously  into 
the  well.  Pushing  over,  he  began  to  pull  a 
string  at  the  end  of  which,  some  object  dan 
gled  down  the  cool  depths.  When  he  brought 
it  up,  the  light  revealed  the  jack  rabbit  of  the 
morning,  all  nicely  skinned  and  salted,  coiled 
cool  and  inviting  in  the  bottom  of  a  large  tin 
pail.  Eph's  old  lips  curled  over  his  toothless 
gums  in  a  maliciously  amused  grin  as  he  cut 
the  string,  and  after  carefully  obliterating 
his  tracks  from  the  moist  earth  about  the 
well  curb,  glided  again  into  the  greenery  of 
his  beloved  woods. 

"  Injin  giver  !  "  he  muttered  in  capital  im 
itation  of  the  big  yellow  woman  whom  he  had 
just  dispoiled  of  her  expectant  meal.  "  Injin 
giver'  you  'ceitful  ol'  'possum  !  He-he!" 

When  the  hour  for  retiring  came,  Esther 


120  EPHIRAM'S  BOLD  STROKE. 

brought  out  her  favorite  "  rising  sun  "  quilt, 
a  present  from  her  long  dead  mistress,  piled 
her  bed  high  with  pillows  filled  with  the  outer 
covering  of  many  sacrificed  fowls,  then  she 
and  her  foxy  little  spouse  retired  to  the  lesser 
comforts  of  the  shed-room  to  await  develop 
ments. 

Sunday  dawned  soft  and  balmy,  as  only  a 
spring  day  in  the  south  can  dawn,  the  people 
flocked  to  hear  the  eloquent  preacher,  the 
service  opened  and  progressed  favorably,  the 
singing  was  loud  and  hearty,  and  the  contri 
bution  plate  made  the  voyage  of  the  church 
and  returned  decently  filled.  Then  the  dea 
cons  retired  to  their  seats  and  the  preacher 
prepared  to  open  his  sermon. 

There  was  a  rustle  of  excitement  and  ex 
pectancy.  Through  the  open  door  and  win 
dows  the  sweet  spring  air  floated,  mingling 
with  the  odor  of  peppermint  and  other  rank 
smelling  "  meetin'  house  draps  "  with  which 
the  people  love  to  anoint  themselves  on  state 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  121 

occasions.  There  were  many  hearty  and 
approving  "  amens,"  " bless  gawds"  and 
"  dat's  de  shinin'  trufe's,"  as  the  speaker 
proceeded.  He  spoke  eloquently  of  the  sins 
of  people  generally,  then  swiftly  narrowed 
down  to  the  luckless  people  present. 

Br'er  Jones,  Sis'  Phoeby,  Deacon  Gibbs  all 
received  the  scoring  treasured  up  for  them, 
and  many  others  came  in  for  like  attentions. 
Then  the  preacher's  wandering  eye  rested  on 
Eph  sitting  meekly  beside  his  anxious  spouse, 
he  recalled  the  delicious  beer,  cool  and  pun 
gent,  with  which  Esther  had  so  generously 
regaled  him,  the  toothsome  stew  and  appetiz 
ing  chicken  that  had  been  so  lavishly  served 
for  his  delectation,  and  his  awful  eye  softened 
to  kindness  as  it  passed  on. 

When  old  Eph  returned  to  his  cabin  that 
day  he  retired  to  the  privacy  of  his  shed- 
room,  where  he  relieved  his  pent  up  emotions 
in  bursts  of  silent  laughter  and  many  queer 
contortions  of  his  gnarled  old  person.  It  was 


122  EPHIRAM'S  BOLD  STROKE. 

a  close  call  Eph  realized,  and  as  he  slid 
about  the  woods  he  more  than  once  congrat 
ulated  himself  upon  his  bold  stroke  of  diplo 
macy. 


H  fioodoed  Seven. 

¥¥¥¥ 

D  Ira  was  happy.  For  the  seventh 
time  he  was  about  to  enter  the 
bonds  of  the  holy  state,  and 
though  having  had  an  experience 
extending  over  a  reign  of  serval 
different  women,  he  had  not  been 
as  many  times  widowed. 

Old  Ira  was  reputed  a  hard  man  to  live  with. 
The  first  woman  found  this  condition  true 
aud  left  him  unceremoniously,  taking  up  with 
a  yellow  turkey  driver  from  North  Carolina 
and  travelling  back  with  him  to  his  native 
state  after  he  had  disposed  of  his  feathered 
wares. 

The  next  two  died,  and  their  sucessors, 
Ira  had  simply  "  put  down  ,"  finding  them 

13} 


124  A    HOODOED    SEVEN. 

a  bit  too  high-handed  and  independent  for 
his  taste,  as  his  soul  loathed  a  "  biggoty 
'ooman." 

But  nothing  daunted  by  his  hymenial  mis 
adventures  he  was  about  to  run  into  the 
matrimonial  noose  even  for  the  seventh  time. 

"For,"  he  reasoned, "didn't  dem  angels 
blow  dem  bugles  seven  times  in  de  woods 
'roun'  Jericko,  an'  didn't  de  good  Lawd  s'pos- 
tulate  dem  sinners  seben  times  ? "  This 
reasoning  seemed  good  to  the  old  man ; 
though  his  scriptural  locations  might  not  be 
exactly  accurate,  his  mind  was  clear  on  the 
numerical  point,  for  might  not  seven  be  his 
magical  winning  number  in  matrimony  as 
well  as  craps  ? 

His  last  and  present  choice  was  a  strapp 
ing  girl  of  twenty,  with  big  rolling  eyes  and 
flashing  teeth,  as  full  of  life  and  spirits 
as  Ira  was  old,  twisted  and  shrivelled  by 
time  and  rheumatism. 

There   was   some  complications,  however, 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  125 

regarding  the  match,  as  the  bride-elect  expec 
ted  to  espouse  quite  another  groom  than  Ira, 
but  the  old  man  laid  his  plans  without  refer 
ence  as  to  what  her  feelings  might  be  in  the 
least. 

For  was  not  he,  the  owner,  if  only  by 
"  squatter  "  rights  of  a  one  room  cabin,  a  bit 
of  tillable  land  and  a  small  hay-colored  don 
key  —  even  though  these  proud  possessions 
were  in  the  final  stages  of  dilapidation  and 
decrepitude  —  a  better  match  than  a  "  horse 
boy  "  of  the  straggling  villiage,  possessing 
nothing  but  a  non-descript  costume  of  looped 
and  windowed  raggedness,  and  the  few  stray 
nickles  he  could  come  by,  holding  horses  and 
other  sundry  errands? 

Ira  was  no  blunderer  in  the  reading  of 
human  nature,  especially  woman  nature,  and 
though  he  was  weazened  and  old,  rheumatic 
and  of  ill  repute,  his  worldly  goods  would  out 
weigh  youth  and  good  looks  when  weighed 
in  the  balance  of  a  woman's  estimation. 


126  A   HOODOED    SEVEN. 

But  the  wily  old  fox  did  not  trust  entirely 
to  his  own  personal  persuasiveness  or  that  of 
his  worldly  possessions.  The  day  before  his 
rival's  wedding  was  to  be  celebrated,  he  ap 
proached  the  groom  elect,  who  found  his 
reasoning  so  convincing  or  his  eloquence  so 
persuasive,  that  when  Ira  left  him,  it  was 
with  all  the  rights,  lock  and  stock  of  Dick  to 
wed  the  buxon  Silvy,  verbally  vested  in  con 
sideration  of  one  gallon  jug  of  new  corn 
whisky  and  a  bright  silver  dollar.  Ira  de 
livered  the  whisky  on  the  spot,  and  promised 
to  pay  the  dollar  after  the  knot  was  finaly 
tied,  and  fully  satisfied,  Dick  dismissed  the 
bartered  bride,  Ira  and  all  worldly  consider 
ations  from  his  mind,  and  proceeded  to  float 
among  the  joys  of  that  Elysium  produced  by 
potations  unlimited  of  the  pearly  corn  fluid. 

And  Ira  was  correct,  for  when  Silvy  un 
derstood  that  Dick  was  reluctant,  her  con 
sent  was  at  once  transferred  to  her  old  gal 
lant,  and  the  name  of  Ira  was  written  in  the 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  127 

license  where  that  of  Dick  should  have  been. 

The  day  following  the  wedding,  the  newly 
made  Benedick  might  have  been  observed 
engaged  in  a  very  curious  occupation. 
Down  on  the  river-bank,  where  the  swamp 
willows  grew  tall  and  lithe,  old  Ira  rustled, 
cutting  with  diligence  the  toughest  switches, 
and  as  he  cut  and  tested  he  muttered  to  him 
self  : 

"  I'm  gwyne  down  de  ribber  bank  honey,  toe 
cut  some  switches  fer  toe  mek  dem  cotton 
baskets  outen. — He-he  !  Gall  gwyne  fin'  out 
what  sort'er  cotton  basket  I'm  gwyne  mek 
outer  dem  switches.  'Ooman  lak  dawg,  jess 
nachelly  bleeged  toe  beat  'em.  Um  hum  !  " 

But  Ira  had  unconsciously  arrived  at  a 
time  when  his  worldly  philosophy  was  to  fail 
him,  and  his  trust  in  the  lucky  seven  play 
him  false.  Yet  this  morning  he  was  happy, 
the  air  was  balmy,  the  sun  shone  ardently 
down,  but  the  willows  were  thick  and  cast  a 
dim  shade  over  the  yellow  river,  rippling 


128  A  HOODOED  SEVEN. 

softly,  whispering  of  the  many  schools  of  cat 
fish  that  lurked  along  its  reedy  channels, 
and  above  all,  he  had  provided  a  pair  of 
strong  young  arms  to  till  his  "gyarden  patch" 
and  grub  his  lightwood  knots  for  the  future, 
leaving  him  ample  time  to  enjoy  the  shade 
of  the  willows  and  entice  the  toothsome  little 
channel  cats  form  their  reedy  hiding  places. 
But  Ira  was  reckoning  without  his  wife  for 
whose  sole  benefit  he  was  so  busily  cutting 
the  slender  rods.  He  had  reckoned  without 
her  consent  on  the  first  occasion  and  all  had 
gone  well,  but  alas,  now  the  tide  was  to  run 
the  other  way.  He  carried  his  switches  home 
indeed,  but  it  was  not  Silvy's  back  that  felt 
the  smart ;  his  "  gyarden  patch  "  was  tilled 
and  the  hearth  was  always  filled  with  knots 
of  pine,  but  it  was  not  Silvy's  shapely  yellow 
hands  that  did  the  work,  and  from  being 
lord  of  all  he  surveyed  and  master  of  his 
own  little  kingdom,  Ira  learned  what  it  was 
to  taste  the  bitterness  of  unwilling  surf- 
dom. 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  1 29 

But  though  Ira  was  beaten,  he  was  by  no 
means  conquered  and  while  he  was  as  wax 
in  his  wife's  strong  hands,  and  his  fear  of 
her  big,  shiny  eyes  passed  his  understanding, 
his  will  and  cunning  still  remained.  His 
wits  worked  nimbly  and  one  morning,  when 
Silvy  had  tied  up  her  dress  skirts,  taken  her 
fishing  rods  and  started  for  the  river,  his 
plans  were  quickly  put  into  execution. 

Harnessing  the  little  donkey,  he  gathered 
his  goods  and  chattels  into  one  hastily  pack 
ed  load,  and  while  his  wife  walked  leisurely 
toward  the  river,  Ira  drove  hastily  down  the 
road  in  the  opposite  direction.  All  day  and 
all  night  he  trudged  beside  his  little  load  of 
worldly  goods  that  had  brought  him  a  wife 
indeed,  but  also  a  world  of  trouble,  and  when 
the  next  day  dawned,  weary  and  footsore  he 
rested  in  the  edge  of  the  woods  tethering  the 
mule  to  his  load  for  safety,  and  such  profound 
sleep  overpowered  him,  that  he  lay  uncon 
scious  of  the  fleeting  hours. 


130  A    HOODOED    SEVEN. 

The  sun  was  high  when  he  woke  with  a 
start,  and  sat  upright  as  quickly  as  his  crip 
pled  old  limbs  would  allow.  Did  his  vision 
also  play  him  false  ?  Standing  beside  the 
load  to  which  the  donkey  was  already  har 
nessed  and  facing  homeward,  was  his  yellow 
Nemesis,  taller,  bigger  and  more  buxom  it 
seemed  to  Ira,  than  she  had  ever  looked  be 
fore. 

He  made  no  objection  to  her  peremptory 
order  for  a  backward  march,  and  hungry  and 
footsore,  he  trudged  behind,  the  weary  dis 
tance  he  had  covered  so  briskly  the  day  and 
night  before. 

The  garden  patch  is  perfectly  tilled  and  all 
about  the  cabin  speaks  of  work  well  done. 
Ira  still  cuts  willow  switches  from  the  river 
bank,  but  they  are  smaller  and  more  flexible, 
suitable  entirely  for  the  basket  making  in 
dustry.  His  faith  in  the  number  seven  as  a 
lucky  cast  is  dead,  and  though  he  sings  at 


SOUTHERN    ECHOES.  131 

his  work,  there  is  in  the  tones  of  his  reedy 
old  voice  a  different  note.  Sometimes  it  is 
plaintive,  especially  when  he  sings  his  favor 
ite  song : 

"I'm  gwyne  back  —  I'm  gwyne  back  ! 
Back  toe  meh  deah  ol'  south'en  home  —  ! 
I'm  gwine  —  I'm  gwyne  back 
Where  money  hang  lak  apples  on  de  vine." 


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